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The  Red  Republic 


A  Romance  of  the  Commune 


By   ROBERT  W.    CHAMBERS 

Author  of  ' '  Lorraine, "    "  The  Maid  at  Arms, ' ' 

' '  The  Conspirators, "    "  Maids  of  Paradise, ' ' 

Etc. 


A.   L.    BURT  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS  NEW   YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1895 

BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 


This  edition  is  issued  under  arrangement  with  the  publishers 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

*Cbe  Ikntcfeerbocfcer  press,  IRevc 


SRL8 
URL' 


TO  MY   MOTHER. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 

THE  author's  acknowledgments  are  due  to  MM. 
Philibert  Audebrand,  le  Comte  d'He"risson, 
Jules  Clere,  Ferdinand  Dugue",  and  Charles 
Virmaitre,  for  their  valuable  volumes  ;  also  to  "  A 
'  Proscrit '  of  the  Commune,"  for  his  "  Truth  about 
the  Commune." 

The  author  has  also  made  use  of  information  vol 
unteered  by  his  revolutionary  friends  of  Belleville, 
La  Villette,  and  the  Faubourgs  Montmartre  and 
St.  Antoine  ;  but  acknowledgements  are  especially 
due  to  certain  good  comrades  of  the  XIXe  Arron- 
dissement. 

Through  the  kindness  of  Geo.  Haven  Putnam,  the 
author  has  been  able  to  consult  a  copy  of  the  official 
records  of  the  Commune. 

Occasionally  the  author  has  deemed  it  best  to 
change  the  names  of  certain  streets,  and  also  of  offi 
cers  and  battalions.  The  separation  of  the  romance 
from  the  facts  would  leave  the  historical  basis  vir 
tually  accurate. 

R.  W.  C. 


"  Above  the  bayonets  mixed  and  crossed 
Men  saw  a  gray  gigantic  ghost 
Receding  through  the  battle  cloud, 
And  heard  across  the  tempest  loud 
The  death-cry  of  a  nation  lost  !  " 


THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   CAF&   CARDINAL. 

LL  Englishmen  are  pigs !  "  observed  a  young 
man  who  stood  swaying  in  the  doorway 
of  the  Cafe  Cardinal.  Nobody  replied  to 
this  criticism.  The  cafe  was  full.  The  young  man 
advanced  unsteadily  to  the  centre  of  the  long 
room  and  looked  about  for  a  seat.  His  lustre 
less  eyes  travelled  from  table  to  table  until  they 
became  fixed  on  a  group  of  people  in  the  embra 
sure  of  one  of  the  windows  which  opened  on  the 
rue  des  Ecoles.  Toward  these  people  he  shuffled, 
but  when  he  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  the  shoulder 
of  one,  a  woman,  she  cried  out  and  shrank  away. 
A  man  sitting  beside  her  started  up  angrily,  but  sat 
down  again  when  he  saw  who  it  was,  and  resumed 
his  jaunty  air. 

"  It 's  Isidore  Weser,"  he  chuckled. 

Room  was  made  at  the  marble-topped  table. 

"  Sit  down,  Isidore,"  said  the  jaunty  man.  "  Your 
legs  seem  very,  very  tired." 

But  Weser  still  stood  swaying  before  the  table, 
3 


4  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

turning  his  eyes  from  one  to  another ;  then  he  ad 
dressed  each  in  turn :  "  Bon  jour,  Faustine,  bon 
jour,  Tribert,  bon  jour,  Sarre,  bon  jour 

"  Sit  down  !  Sit  down  !  "  said  Tribert,  impatiently. 

Weser  replied  with  a  yell  that  drew  the  attention 
of  the  whole  caf£.  This  seemed  to  be  what  he 
wanted.  "  When  I  came  in,"  he  explained,  "  I  made 
a  remark  to  which  nobody  paid  the  slightest  atten 
tion.  I  advanced  a  proposition  which  called  for 
comment.  There  was  no  comment."  He  paused, 
fixing  a  glassy  eye  on  Landes,  who  from  a  distant 
table  was  looking  curiously  at  him  over  the  edge  of 
a  newspaper.  "  I  will  repeat  my  remark,"  he  re 
sumed.  "  All  Englishmen  are  pigs  !  " 

Landes  half  rose,  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then 
sat  down  again.  This  seemed  to  amuse  the  jaunty 
man,  whose  name  was  Sarre. 

"  Certainly,  Englishmen  are  pigs !  "  he  cried,  drag 
ging  Weser  into  a  chair  beside  him,  "  and  Izzy  has 
religious  scruples."  His  voice  was  perfectly  audi 
ble  to  every  one  in  the  cafe.  Several  people  laughed. 
Landes  threw  down  his  paper,  and  walked  over  to 
the  group  at  the  window. 

"  My  name  is  Philip  Landes,"  he  said,  looking 
straight  at  Sarre.  "  I  am  an  American." 

Sarre  grinned,  but  before  he  could  reply  the  girl 
beside  him  cried : 

"  They  all  know  you  are  an  American,  Monsieur 
Landes.  They  mean  you  no  discourtesy." 

Sarre  waved  his  hand  jauntily. 

"You  must  n't  take  offence.  Weser  's  drunk, 
is  n't  he,  Tribert  ?  " 


THE  CAF£  CARDINAL.  5 

"  All  the  same,  I  'm  not  fond  of  Americans,"  said 
Tribert,  impudently. 

"  Shame  !  "  cried  the  girl.  "  I,  Faustine  Courtois, 
say  it.  Pagot,  Sarre,  have  you  no  excuse  to  offer 
Monsieur  Landes  ?  " 

Pagot  looked  frightened,  Sarre  grinned,  Georgias, 
the  Greek,  sneered  openly.  Landes  waited. 

"  Sarre,"  he  said  at  length,  "  I  am  waiting  for  your 
explanation." 

"  If  I  have  said  anything  that  might  seem  offen 
sive,  I  am  sorry,  and  withdraw  it,"  grinned  Sarre, 
emphasizing  each  word  with  a  pat  of  his  hand  on 
his  fat  legs. 

"  And  I,"  shouted  Weser,  struggling  to  his  feet — 
"  I  tell  you— 

"  You  tell  me  !  Canaille!  "  cut  in  Landes,  coldly. 

Tribert  dragged  Weser  back  into  his  chair,  and 
turned  to  meet  the  stern  eyes  of  Landes.  "  /  said 
nothing,"  he  muttered,  shifting  his  glance. 

"  I  'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Landes. 

At  that  moment  a  man  approached  the  table, 
nodded  to  everybody,  and  sat  down. 

"Bon  jour,  Raoul,"  grunted  Tribert. 

The  other  acknowledged  the  greeting  and,  drawing 
a  pair  of  glasses  from  a  case,  adjusted  them  and 
looked  up  at  Landes.  "Ah,"  he  said,  "it  's  Mon 
sieur  Landes.  What 's  the  trouble?  " 

"  Monsieur  Landes  thinks  we  are  not  polite 
enough  !  "  chuckled  Sarre. 

"  And  he  will  instruct  us  perhaps,"  said  Raoul 
Rigault. 

"  If  necessary,"  said  Landes. 


6  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

Rigault  looked  at  him.  "  Americans  are  not  fa 
vorites  in  Paris,"  he  said  brusquely. 

"  That,"  replied  Landes,  "  is  of  no  consequence 
to  Americans." 

"  Who  says  Americans  are  not  favorites  in  Paris  ?  " 
demanded  Faustine.  "  They  are  favorites  with  me." 

Philip  glanced  at  her  kindly,  but  his  eyes  returned 
directly  to  Rigault.  Rigault  drew  a  paper  from  his 
pocket,  and  held  it  in  his  hand. 

"  Monsieur  Landes,"  he  began,  "  I  have  some 
thing  to  say  to  you." 

"  Whatever  you  say,  Rigault,"  Philip  answered, 
"don't  forget  that  in  the  siege  just  over  we  Ameri 
cans  served  with  the  ambulance  corps  and  the 
American  Minister  was  the  only  foreign  representa 
tive  in  Paris  who  stuck  to  his  post." 

"  Ah  !  Yes  !  The  American  Minister,"  said  Rigault. 
"  You  may  as  well  know  what  we  Parisians  think 
about  your  Minister — 

"  I  don't  care  a  d — n  what  you  Parisians  think 
about  our  Minister,"  retorted  Landes,  "  but  I  want 
to  know  what  you  mean,  you  Raoul  Rigault,  and 
you,  Andre  Sarre,  both  of  you  students  of  the  Latin 
Quarter,  by  insulting  a  fellow  student,  a  member  of 
the  Students  Association  ?" 

"  Monsieur  is  right,"  said  a  tall  young  artillery 
officer  at  a  neighboring  table. 

"  What 's  that  ?  "  cried  Rigault. 

The  officer  rose  leisurely,  buttoned  his  astrakhan- 
trimmed  dolman,  and,  picking  up  his  sabre,  snapped 
the  clasp  to  the  short  silver  chain  which  dangled 
from  his  sword  belt.  Then  walking  over  to  Landes, 


7  HE  CAFE  CARDINAL.  J 

he  bowed,  saying,  "  I,  Monsieur,  admire  Americans," 
and  with  a  pleasant  salute  to  Faustine,  turned  his 
back  on  the  rest  and  walked  out. 

Raoul  Rigault's  eyes  glittered  through  his  glasses. 
"  En  voila  un  qu'il  faut  saigner,"  he  muttered. 

Disgusted  with  the  whole  scene,  Philip  turned  to 
go  also.  Rigault  sprang  up  and  barred  the  way  ;  his 
baby  mouth  under  the  thick,  crisp  beard  looked 
moist  and  venomous.  He  began,  speaking  slowly  at 
first,  but  before  he  had  uttered  half  a  dozen  sentences 
he  was  snarling,  his  cheeks  purple  and  swollen,  his 
eyes  growing  paler  and  harder  until  they  had  lost 
every  vestige  of  color,  and  were  nothing  but  a 
malignant  sparkle. 

"  You  have  been  expelled  from  the  Students  As 
sociation,  Monsieur  Landes,"  he  began,  "  and  for 
this  reason — you  are  an  American.  We  want  no 
Americans  "-  —  louder — "and  no  Prussians,"  —  still 
louder, — "  do  you  understand  me?"  Here  he  burst 
into  a  roar.  Sarre  caught  his  arm. 

"  Give  him  the  letter,  Raoul,"  he  said  ;  "  don't 
make  a  scene." 

Raoul  thrust  the  paper  he  had  been  holding  at 
Philip,  who  took  it  mechanically,  but  Rigault,  shaking 
off  Sarre,  went  on  violently : 

"  Your  American  Minister  has  taught  us  who  are 
our  enemies  ! — your  Minister  Washburn — 

"  Are  you  crazy  ?"  said  Landes,  astonished  at  this 
outburst. 

"  Rigault  is  right,"  growled  Tribert. 

"  Am  I  crazy  !  "  mimicked  Rigault.  "  Do  you  want 
proofs  ?  Did  your  Minister  Washburn  receive  the 


8  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


American  papers  during  the  siege  ?  And  did  he 
erase  with  ink  everything  in  them  that  could  be  of 
service  to  France  before  he  would  let  them  be  seen 
by  us  ?  " 

"  He  could  not  do  otherwise,"  said  Philip,  gravely; 
"a  Foreign  Minister  could  not  distribute  to  the 
garrison  of  a  besieged  town  news  which  he  was  able 
to  receive  only  through  the  courtesy  of  the  besiegers." 
To  cut  short  the  violent  and  foolish  scene,  he  would 
have  turned  away  once  more,  but  Rigault  drowned 
his  last  words  in  a  torrent  of  half-articulate  blasphemy, 
out  of  which  came  distinctly  the  words,  "  American 
Minister,  American  students — paid  Prussian  spies !  " 

Without  a  sound,  Landes  sprang  at  him.  Tribert 
jerked  Rigault  back  against  the  wall,  and  shoved 
the  table  in  front  of  him,  while  Monsieur  Cardinal, 
alarmed  for  the  crockery  in  his  cafe,  threw  his  arms 
around  the  American's  waist,  and  shouted  for  the 
police.  Landes  struggled,  white  with  passion,  over 
turning  tables  and  chairs,  but  Monsieur  Cardinal 
held  fast,  while  Sarre  and  Pagot  each  draped  himself 
dver  an  arm. 

"  Raoul  Rigault,"  he  said,  between  his  gasps, 
"  you  lie  !  Let  me  go,  Monsieur  Cardinal !  I  will 
not  touch  him  here, — let  go,  Andre  Sarre,  or  I  '11 
break  your  neck.  On  my  honor  I  won't  touch  him, 
Monsieur  Cardinal, — not  here,  to-night, — let  me  go, 
I  tell  you  !  " 

"On  your  honor,  Monsieur  Landes?"  whined 
Cardinal. 

"  I  said  it,"  panted  Landes. 

They  released  him,  and  the  tumult  in  the  cafe 


THE  CAFE  CARDIiVAL.  9 

died  away  as  he  took  a  step  forward  and  faced 
Rigault. 

"  I  '11  break  my  cane  over  your  head,  when  next 
we  meet,  you  mongrel  liar !  Keep  out  of  my  way, 
Sarre  ! — and  you  too,  whatever  your  name  is,"  turn 
ing  on  Tribert,  who  scowled  back  in  reply.  "  As 
for  this  canaille  you  call  Weser,  and  this  Greek  here, 
who  seems  so  ready  with  that  thin  knife  he  's  just 
slipped  back  into  his  pocket — pfui ! "  He  made  a 
gesture  of  disgust,  and  walked  out  into  the  street, 
trembling  with  excitement. 

He  crossed  the  Boulevard  St.  Michel,  and  enter 
ing  Ferdinand's  ordered  dinner,  but  when  it  was 
brought  he  felt  too  upset  to  eat,  and  drawing  out 
the  paper  he  had  received  from  Rigault,  he  looked 
at  it.  It  bore  the  seal  of  the  French  Students  Asso 
ciation  and  was  addressed  : 

MONSIEUR  PHILIP  LANDES, 
Artiste  Peintre, 

Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts, 

En  Ville. 

The  black-eyed  waitress  who  had  served  him  for 
three  years  felt  that  something  indeed  serious  must 
be  the  matter,  when  a  young  man  who  has  just  been 
through  a  siege  of  six  months,  living  on  government 
demi-rations  of  horse  meat  and  straw  bread,  reads  a 
letter  before  looking  at  the  juicy  Chateaubriand 
which  a  black-eyed  waitress  sets  before  him. 

"Are  you  ill,  Monsieur  Landes?"  she  inquired. 

"  No, — oh,  no,"  he  replied,  smiling.  "  I  '11  eat 
presently.  Has  Monsieur  Ellice  come  in  yet  ?  " 


IO  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Ellice  entered  as  he  spoke,  with  Ynes  Falaise,  and 
Landes  rose  to  welcome  them. 

"  Bon  soir,  Mile.  Ynes.  Hello,  Jack  !  Sit  down 
here,  I  'm  just  beginning." 

Ynes  seated  herself  with  a  graceful  shake  of  her 
fluffy  skirts,  and  the  two  young  men  dropped  into 
chairs  on  either  side  of  her. 

"  Well,"  said  Ellice,  after  the  dinner  was  ordered, 
"  any  news  ?  " 

"  Nothing  of  interest,"  replied  Landes,  thinking 
of  the  scene  just  past  in  the  Cafe  Cardinal.  "  What 
do  the  evening  papers  say  ?  " 

"  Whatever  they  say,  they  don't  say  it  in  Eng 
lish,"  observed  Mile.  Falaise,  whom  that  language 
bored.  The  young  men  laughed  and  begged  her 
pardon,  then  chatted  on  in  French. 

"  They  still  keep  talking  about  that  mysterious 
Central  Committee,"  said  Ellice.  "  What  is  the  Cen 
tral  Committee,  Ynes  ?  " 

"  Politics  !  "  cried  the  girl.  "  What  a  pity,  before 
dinner ! " 

"  Ynes  is  of  Lewis  Carroll's  mind,"  said  Ellice. 
"  Politics  to-morrow,  politics  yesterday,  but  never 
politics  to-day." 

"  Then  give  me  a  glass  of  that  Chambertin,"  she 
said  evasively,  "  and  talk  your  politics  by  and  by 
with  Monsieur  Philip." 

"  I  have  heard  of  the  Comite"  Central  every  day 
since  the  surrender,"  persisted  Landes.  "  What  is 
it,  anyway  ?  Who  compose  it  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know,"  interrupted  Ynes,  "  that  the 
Prussians  stole  all  the  cuckoo  clocks  in  the  Champs 
filysees  quarter  ?  " 


THE  CAFE  CARDINAL.  II 


"  Ah,  bah  !  "  laughed  Ellice.  "  Every  one  knows 
they  behaved  themselves  very  well  while  they  were 
in  Paris." 

"  But  they  stole  the  cuckoo  clocks,"  persisted 
Mile.  Falaise, — "the  barbarians  !  " 

"  Barbarians  as  much  as  you  like,"  said  Ellice, 
"  and  their  native  tongue — 

"  And  their  French  !  I  suppose  they  'd  call  it 
the  Gomide  Zendrale,"  mimicked  Mile.  Falaise, 
making  her  mouth  very  round. 

"  Jack,"  said  Landes,  "  I  '11  tell  you  all  I  know 
about  the  Central  Committee.  Do  you  remember 
last  month,  while  the  peace  was  being  arranged,  a 
placard  was  stuck  all  over  the  walls, — a  big,  square, 
red  placard,  blood-red  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  remember  it." 

"  It  's  a  wonder  you  do,  considering  the  thousands 
of  placards  of  every  shape  and  color  that  we  used  to 
see  pasted  up  every  day  during  the  siege." 

"  Oh,  I  remember  this  one.  It  said  the  National 
Guard  had  elected  the  '  undersigned  '  as  a  Committee 
to  intervene  in  the  situation." 

"  Yes,  and  they  declared  they  would  intervene  in 
the  name  of  three  hundred  thousand  citizens.  It 
is  n't  a  small  detail,  three  hundred  thousand  citizens. 
And  the  '  undersigned '  were  sixteen  names  abso 
lutely  unknown,  unless  you  except  that  fellow  Assi, 
who  came  into  prominence  during  the  Creuzot 
troubles.  Well,  that  was  the  beginning  of  the 
Comite  Central.  Nobody  paid  the  slightest  atten 
tion  to  it  then.  So  far  as  I  know,  no  one  does  now, 
and  yet  it  seems  to  be  there,  all  the  same.  What 
is  it,  what  does  it  want,  Ynes  ?  " 


12  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  What  the  Comite  Central  wants,"  said  Ynes, 
impaling  and  eating  a  single  pea,  "  is  the  Republic. 
That  's  what  I  want  also." 

"  It  's  what  all  France  wants,"  said  Ellice. 

"  Except  Monsieur  Thiers,"  said  the  girl,  scorn 
fully. 

"  Well,  yes,  I  'd  like  to  know  what  Monsieur 
Thiers  wants  too,  while  I  'm  asking  for  information," 
yawned  Ellice. 

"  What  he  wants,"  flashed  out  Ynes,  "  is  to  insult 
Paris.  First  he  holds  the  National  Assembly  at 
Bordeaux,  and  then  he  carries  it  to  Versailles ! 
Imbecile!" 

"  He  said  he  did  n't  want  to  go  there,"  said 
Landes.  "  Versailles  is  the  city  of  kings,"  he 
said. 

"  Oh,  pour  cela,  Versailles  is  well  enough,  said 
Ynes.  "  It  's  only  a  suburb  of  Paris  now,  thanks  to 
the  railroad.  But  Monsieur  Thiers  blows  hot  and 
cold  with  the  same  mouth,  that  is  my  opinion,"  she 
added,  with  a  gay  smile,  and  held  out  her  glass  to 
touch  Philip's. 

They  pledged  the  Republic,  and,  at  her  command, 
drank  confusion  to  all  Germans,  "  and  may  their 
stolen  cuckoo  clocks  go  wrong  forever,"  said  Ellice. 

Ynes  kissed  her  hand  to  him,  and  made  him  a 
compliment  on  his  esprit,  but  Landes  harked  back 
to  the  first  theme. 

"This  Central  Committee  bothers  me,"  he  said. 
"What  common  end  holds  them  together?  Are 
they  afraid  Thiers  will  betray  the  Republic  ?  Are 
they — is  it  the  Commune  they  are  after?" 


THE  CAFE  CARDINAL.  13 


"  The  Commune,"  murmured  Ellice.  "  That 
would  mean  Thermidor!"  Their  eyes  met,  they 
looked  at  Ynes,  who  was  sipping  an  ice.  Her  pretty 
teeth  showed  in  a  careless  smile,  a  fluffy  mass  of  silk 
and  lace  framed  her  pointed  foot.  She  glanced 
aside,  caught  them  looking  at  her,  and  became 
injured  and  expostulatory. 

"  Mais,  mon  Dieu  !  What  is  this  ?  Politics,  poli 
tics,  always  politics  !  And  that  is  how  you  make 
yourselves  agreeable  to  ladies,  you  Americans  !  " 

"  Would  Mademoiselle  perhaps  find  this  more 
amusing?"  smiled  Philip,  handing  her  the  letter 
which  he  had  kept  beside  his  plate.  "  Read  it  too, 
Jack,"  he  added. 

Ellice  leaned  over  with  a  "pardon,  Ynes,"  and 
glanced  at  the  paper  which  she  unfolded.  When  he 
saw  its  contents  he  started  back  and  stared  at  Lan- 
des.  "  What  in  thunder  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  where 
did  you  get  that?  " 

"  From  Raoul  Rigault,  just  now  in  the  Cafe  Car 
dinal.  He  was  there  with  Andre  Sarre  and  a  miscel 
laneous  collection  of  scum  that  I  never  saw  before. 
He  made  a  nasty  scene  and  then  handed  me  this. 
He  said  it  was  because  I  was  an  American ' 

"Ah,  bah  !  "  said  Ynes,  angrily. 

"  Well,  did  you  say  anything  to  him  ?  "  asked  Jack. 

"  I  started  to  make  a  few  suitable  remarks,  but  had 
to  desist  because  of  the  shrieks  of  old  Cardinal." 

"  Raoul  Rigault  knows  all  about  the  Comite  Cen 
tral,"  observed  Ynes,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Oh,  he  does.     I  thought  as  much." 

After  a  short  silence  Landes  resumed- 


14  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


11  Do  you  remember,  Jack,  how  they  celebrated  the 
twenty-fourth  of  February  in  the  Place  de  la  Bastile, 
last  month?  " 

"  I  did  n't  see  it  but  I  heard  about  it." 

"  What  would  you  say  was  the  prominent  feature 
in  that  celebration?" 

"  If  you  like  to  call  a  prominent  feature  what  was 
the  only  feature,"  mocked  Ynes,  recovering  her 
gaiety,  "  I  should  say  La  Garde  Nationale." 

"  Well,  I  watched  the  whole  business,"  Philip  went 
on,  "  from  six  in  the  morning  till  six  in  the  evening 
the  battalions  of  the  National  Guard  passed  without 
intermission,  bands  playing,  bugles  and  drums,  and 
officers  at  their  head.  They  carried  wreaths  of  im 
mortelles,  tied  with  crape  and  red  ribbons,  and  placed 
them  around  the  statue  of  Liberty  in  the  Place  de 
la  Bastile.  During  the  next  five  days  a  hundred 
and  fifty  battalions  came  and  did  the  same  thing. 
Each  one  did  exactly  as  all  the  rest.  The  delegates, 
preceded  by  drummers  and  buglers  or  by  bands, 
with  their  officers  and  flags,  entered  through  the 
gate  opposite  the  rue  Saint-Antoine  and  passed 
around  the  column  inside  the  railing.  The  commis- 
saires  wore  a  red  cocarde.  When  they  halted,  these 
fellows  in  red  took  the  wreaths  and  flags,  each  in 
scribed  with  the  number  of  the  company  and  battal 
ion,  and  placed  them  before  the  pedestal.  Then  the 
commandant  uncovered,  the  drums  beat  the  long 
roll,  the  bands  played  a  patriotic  air,  and  everybody 
shouted,  '  Vive  la  Republique  !  '  Usually  an  offi 
cer  made  a  speech,  which  always  began  in  the  same 
way,  something  like  this :  '  The  people  of  Paris, 


THE  CAF&  CARDINAL.  1 5 


honoring  the  memory  of  those  illustrious  victims 
who  died  in  defending  Liberty,  mean  to  defend  the 
Republic  to  the  death.'  " 

"  They  kept  up  their  parades  too,"  said  Ellice, 
"  every  day,  and  toward  the  end  of  the  month  they 
grew  rather — rather  menacing,  I  thought " 

"  More  patriotic,  you  mean,"  interposed  Mademoi 
selle  Ynes. 

"  Well,"  said  Landes,  "  I  heard  an  officer  of  the 
238th  battalion  say  :  '  Monopolists  and  tyrants  think 
the  people  under  age,  but  sometimes  the  people 
wake  up  and  claim  their  majority  unexpectedly. 
We  speak,'  he  said,  '  of  '93,  of  1830  and  '48  ;  who 
knows  if  our  children  will  not  add  to  these,  1871  ?' 
I  thought  it  was  only  blow  at  the  time  but  now  I  'm 
not  so  sure." 

"  After  all,"  said  Ellice,  "  this  National  Guard  is  a 
pretty  poor  organization,  seems  to  me.  They  only 
grew  war-like  after  the  Prussians  had  left  Paris.  I  'd 
back  one  regiment  of  the  Line  against  the  whole  two 
hundred  and  fifty  battalions  of  the  National  Guard." 

"  They  certainly  have  a  fondness  for  blowing 
bugles  and  it  is  very  tiresome,"  laughed  Ynes,  "  but 
1  think  they  are  good  republicans." 

"  Blowing  bugles  and  parading,"  repeated  Ellice, 
"  they  parade  every  day  and  all  day." 

"  Yes,"  said  Landes  drily,  "  and  the  other  day 
they  paraded  their  cannon  out  of  sight." 

"  Out  of  sight  ?  "  cried  the  girl.  "  Oh,  pas  du  tout ! 
They  are  quite  easy  to  be  seen  winking  and  blinking 
in  the  sun  up  on  Montmartre.  You  must  take  me 
up  there  to-morrow,  Jack,  every  one  is  going." 


1 6  '1HE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Now,  see  how  these  Parisians  play  with  danger," 
said  Landes.  "  Do  you  think  it  amusing  that  an 
organized  militia  seizes  two  hundred  and  fifty  odd 
pieces  of  cannon  from  the  park  in  the  Cours-la-Reine 
and  drags  them  up  to  the  heights  of  Montmartre  and 
trains  them  on  the  city  ?  " 

"  It  was  to  save  them  from  being  handed  over  to 
the  Germans,"  said  Ynes  ;  "  Thiers  would  have  given 
them  up  to  Bismarck." 

"  Oh,  never  !  "  protested  Landes. 

"  Pardon,"  murmured  Ynes,  obstinately. 

Landes  smiled  and  waived  the  question. 

"Anyway,  Ynes,"  said  Jack  Ellice,  "you  must 
confess  it  's  making  pretty  free  with  government 
property." 

"  Pardon,"  said  Mademoiselle  Falaise  again  and 
set  her  pretty  teeth.  "  The  cannon  belong  to  the 
National  Guard.  Every  soldier  in  each  battalion 
gave  something  toward  paying  for  them,  so  did  the 
families  and  friends  of  the  soldiers.  I  gave  ten 
francs,  all  I  had  at  the  time.  They  were  built  dur 
ing  the  siege  for  the  National  Guard  and  paid  for  as 
I  have  just  told  you.  They  don't  belong  to  the 
government  at  all !  "  and  Mademoiselle  tossed  her 
head  and  looked  very  decided. 

"  All  the  same,  Thiers  ought  to  have  shown  spirit 
enough  to  prevent  their  removal  and  placing  where 
they  are.  It  's  a  menace  pure  and  simple,"  said 
Ellice. 

"  Who  gave  the  order  for  their  removal  ?  "  inquired 
Landes,  picking  up  a  pear  and  smiling  at  Ynes'  im 
patience  of  their  seriousness 


THE  CAF£  CARDINAL.  1 7 


11  The  Central  Committee,"  she  answered. 

"  Precisely  !  And  the  Parisians  say  that  the  Cen 
tral  Committee  does  not  exist !  And  Montmartre 
bristles  with  artillery  which  could  lay  Paris  in  ashes, 
and  you  think  it  a  good  joke.  The  illustrated  papers 
make  caricatures  about  it.  If  Thiers  is  n't  a  fool, 
he  '11  send  a  Line  regiment  up  there  to  fetch  them 
within  the  next  twenty-four  hours." 

"  Monsieur  Thiers  is  a  nobody,"  announced  Ma- 
damoiselle  Falaise.  "  Monsieur  Ellice,  are  you  going 
to  take  me  to  the  theatre?" 

They  all  rose.  Landes  walked  with  the  others  to 
the  door,  and  they  stood  a  moment  chatting  on  the 
Boulevard  St.  Michel,  then  crying:  "Au  revoir !  A 
demain  done ! "  they  separated,  Landes  turning  up 
toward  the  Luxembourg  Gardens,  and  Ellice,  escort 
ing  Madamoiselle  Falaise  to  the  Folies-St-Antoine, 
where  she  had  a  speaking  part  in  the  new  farce, 
"  Paris  Upside  Down,"  and  was  receiving  fifty  francs 
a  week  and  some  applause. 


CHAPTER  II. 

PHILIP  ACTS  AS  ESCORT. 

AFTER  taking  leave  of  Jack  and  Ynes,  Philip 
walked  slowly  up  the  St.  Michel  and  sat  down 
on   a   Boulevard    bench.      Mechanically   he 
took  off  his  hat  to  enjoy  the  spring  breeze. 

"The  first  soft  air,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "that 
has  entered  the  sad  city,  since  her  gates  closed  in 
autumn  and  the  state  of  siege  was  proclaimed."  This 
started  several  trains  of  thought  at  once,  which  he 
followed,  not  because  he  wanted  to,  but  because  they 
persisted,  getting  themselves  more  or  less  mixed  up 
and  intertwisted  as  trains  of  thought  will ;  the  scene 
in  Cafe  Cardinal,  the  talk  with  Jack  and  Ynes,  and 
now  this  first  touch  of  returning  spring,  reminding 
him  of  light-hearted  springtimes  that  came  and  went 
before  the  troubles  began. 

It  was  the  i6th  day  of  March,  1871. 

On  the  2Oth  of  January  preceding,  General  Trochu, 
Governor  of  Paris,  had  lost  his  last  battle  under  the 
walls,  and  had  published  the  following  despatch : 

18 


PHILIP  ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  19 


NOTICE  ! 

IT  IS  NOW  URGENTLY  NECESSARY  TO  SEND  A  FLAG  OF 
TRUCE  TO  SEVRES,  DEMANDING  AN  ARMISTICE  OF  TWO 
DAYS,  FOR  THE  REMOVAL  OF  THE  WOUNDED,  AND  THE 
BURIAL  OF  THE  DEAD. 

WAGONS,  STOUTLY  BUILT  AND  WELL  EQUIPPED,  ARE 
WANTED,  ALSO  THE  LARGEST  POSSIBLE  NUMBER  OF 
STRETCHERS. 

LOSE  NO  TIME,  BUT  WORK  ! 


Landes  went  out  with  the  American  ambulance. 
Before  he  returned,  Paris  had  surrendered. 

Poor  General  Trochu  !  In  the  beginning  he  had 
cried,  "  The  Governor  of  Paris  will  not  surrender  !  " 
but  hunger,  bitter  cold,  and  a  dissatisfied  public 
told  heavily  on  the  resolution  of  the  Governor 
of  Paris.  Sortie  after  sortie  failed  to  break  the 
ring  of  German  bayonets.  The  people  clamored 
for  another  and  still  another  effort.  He  sent  out 
thousands  of  men  to  face  their  fate.  They  went 
gladly.  Few  of  them  ever  returned.  Yet  even 
when  the  shattered  remnants  of  their  troops  crept 
back  through  the  gates  of  the  fortifications,  the 
people  cried,  "  The  Governor  of  Paris  must  not 
surrender !  " 

On  the  2 1st  of  January,  the  people  read  in  placards 
on  the  walls  that  the  Government  of  National 
Defence  had  decided  to  separate  the  offices  of  Com 
mander-in-chief  of  the  Army  and  President  of  the 
Government,  that  General  Vinoy  was  appointed 
Commandant  of  the  Army  of  Paris,  that  the  title 
and  functions  of  Governor  of  Paris  were  suppressed, 


2O  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


and  that  General  Trochu  was  to  remain  President 
of  the  Government. 

On  the  ist  day  of  March,  as  the  morning  bells 
sounded  eight  o'clock,  the  first  German  of  the 
advanced  guard  passed  the  fortifications  of  Neuilly. 
At  half-past  ten,  the  German  army  being  massed  on 
the  meadow  of  Longchamps,  the  Crown  Prince  passed 
along  the  cheering  lines.  At  ten  minutes  to  eleven, 
the  cheers  rolled  out  in  a  deafening  "  Hoch  dem 
Konig !  "  and  King  William  galloped  across  the 
meadow  to  the  windmill,  where  his  son  was  waiting 
to  receive  him.  Then  all  the  splendid  German  bands 
crashed  out  with  the  hymn  "  Heil  dir  in  Sieges- 
kranz !  " 

The  echo  of  that  triumphant  music  was  still  sound 
ing  in  Paris  over  the  Seine,  among  the  shell-torn 
houses  of  the  left  bank,  and  in  the  bitter  hearts  of 
the  people.  Landes  heard  it,  now,  as  he  sat  musing, 
his  eyes  bent  on  his  cane,  with  which  he  was  absently 
beating  a  tattoo  on  the  curb. 

"Monsieur  Philip,"  whispered  a  voice  behind  him. 
He  swung  around  and  jumped  up. 

"  Faustine!  "  he  exclaimed  "  What  's  the  matter? 
What  are  you  crying  for?" 

At  first  she  would  do  nothing  but  lean  against  a 
tree  and  sob  quietly.  After  a  while  he  persuaded 
her  to  sit  down,  and  then  lighting  a  cigarette,  he 
waited  for  her  to  speak  when  she  should  be  ready. 
He  knew  she  would  not  have  come  to  him  if  she  had 
not  had  something  to  say. 

The  Place  de  Medici  was  not  well  lighted.  The 
petroleum  lamps,  which  had  hung  from  the  gilded 


PHILIP  ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  21 


iron  railing  of  the  Luxembourg  Gardens  during  the 
siege  were  now  removed,  and  the  gas  burned  dimly, 
at  long  intervals,  on  some  of  the  gas  posts.  The 
light  from  the  Cafe  d'lena  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Boulevard  St.  Michel  illumined  the  fountain  in  the 
Place  de  Medici,  but  hardly  penetrated  to  the 
Gardens.  Under  the  black  arcades  of  the  Odeon,  a 
lantern  or  two  glimmered  feebly.  Few  people 
passed  ;  no  one  paid  the  slightest  attention  to  them. 
A  woman's  sobs  could  scarcely  attract  attention  in  a 
city  which  for  six  months  had  heard  little  else. 
Landes  smoked  and  waited,  still  beating  a  gentle 
tattoo  on  the  curbstone. 

After  a  while,  Faustine  stopped  crying  and  sat 
up,  drying  her  eyes,  and  arranging  her  veil.  Then 
he  leaned  toward  her  with  a  pleasant,  "  anything  I 
can  do  for  you,  Faustine?  " 

"  Nothing,"  she  smiled,  but  her  lip  trembled ; 
"  nothing,  unless  you  can  bring  back  old  times,  Mon 
sieur  Philip." 

"  Oh,  they  '11  come  back  all  right,"  he  said  cheer 
fully,  not  in  the  least  believing  it.  "  It  will  be  just 
the  same  when  the  chestnuts  are  in  blossom — our 
own  set,  you  know,  when  we  can  get  together  again, 
you,  Ynes,  Jack  Ellice,  Georges  Carriere " 

"  Killed  at  Champigny  !  " 

"  I  forgot,"  said  Landes,  soberly.  "  Well,  there 
are  Alfred  d'Aunay,  and  Armand  Riviere " 

"  Armand !  Oh,  Monsieur  Philip,  he  was  sabred 
by  the  Prussians  !  " 

"  I  never  heard  that,"  Landes  said,  and  then  there 
was  a  long  silence. 


22  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Everyone — everything  is  changed,  is  changing," 
she  began  again.  "  Friends  are  no  longer  friends, 
comrades  turn  on  one,  people  one  would  not  have 
spoken  to  in  the  old  days  give  orders  now,  and — 
strike  !  "  Her  voice  was  very  low  and  full  of  bitter 
resentment.  Landes  looked  up  sharply,  as  if  he 
would  ask  a  question,  but  changed  his  mind  and 
waited. 

"  No,"  she  went  on,  "  I  shall  never  be  happy  again. 
Do  you  remember  how  gay  we  were  here  in  the 
Quarter,  Francine  and  Wyeth  Vernon,  Mariette  and 
Georges  Carriere  ;  — then  you,  Jack  Ellice,  Ynes 
Falaise,  and  I,  who  were  nothing  but  good  comrades 
and  oh!  so  happy!"  She  laid  a  gloved  hand  on 
his  arm. 

"  My  poor  Philip,  don't  you  understand  ?  That 
is  all  over.  Can  you  make  this  the  same  city  it  was 
then  ?  Can  you  make  us  the  same  people  we  were 
then  ?  Can  you  bring  Georges  back  from  the  field 
of  Champigny, — and  the  smile  to  Mariette's  eyes? 
If  one  dragged  the  bottom  of  the  Loiret,  there  would 
be  Armand  with  a  sabre  cut  across  his  face.  And 
when  we  go  down  the  rue  de  Bac,  we  pass  the  place 
where  Francine  was  killed  by  a  shell, — -you  saw  her 
lying  in  the  street  with  her  pretty  gray  jacket  all 
ripped  and  splashed  ;  — Wyeth  Vernon  was  walking 
so  near  her,  that  his  sleeve  was  drenched  with  her 
blood.  He  used  to  blush  when  she  called  him  stupid, 
and  follow  her  about  everywhere.  He  does  n't  know 
what  to  do  with  himself  now.  You  may  see  him 
any  day  on  a  bench  in  the  Gardens  there.  I  tell 
you,"  she  went  on  excitedly,  "  the  shadow  of  the 


PHILIP  ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  23 


Prussian  eagle  wraps  the  city  still,  and  his  talons  are 
in  my  heart !  " 

"  Oh  !  Oh!  Come,  Faustine,  not  so  tragic,"  said 
Landes,  speaking  very  gently.  "  And  by  the  way,  I 
don't  wonder  you  think  the  decent  people  are  all 
dead,  if  you  take  up  with  the  sort  I  saw  you  with 
to-day." 

"  Yes  !  Why  do  I  lower  myself  to  become  the 
comrade  of  such  men  as  Sarre  and  Rigault,  /,  Faus 
tine  Courtois  !  " 

"  That 's  what  I  want  to  know,"  he  replied  sharply. 

"  Because  they  are  Revolutionists,"  she  cried  reck 
lessly.  "  Because  they  plot " 

"A  la  Grande  Duchesse,"put  in  Landes. 

She  checked  herself  and  asked  quietly,  "  my  poor 
Philip,  do  you  think  it  is  a  farce  ?  " 

"  I  think  that  anything  Sarre  and  Rigault  manage 
will  be  a  farce  fit  for  the  Palais  Royal.  But  that  is 
not  the  point  at  present.  Low  as  they  are,  their 
friends  are  lower.  What  is  a  girl  like  you  doing  in 
the  company  of  a  creature  like  Tribert  ?  " 

Faustine  hung  her  head. 

"  I  thought  I  could  endure  him  because  he  works 
for  the  Republic,  and  I  hate — mon  Dieu,  how  I  hate 
the  Empire — the  Germans  and  Thiers.  I  had  noth 
ing  else  to  give,  so  I  gave  myself." 

"  That  was  a  mistake."  Landes  spoke  very  dryly. 
His  tone  seemed  to  sting  Faustine  beyond  endurance. 

"  A  mistake,"  she  cried,  "  and  what  will  you  call 
it  when  I  tell  you  that  to-day  he  struck  me  ?  " 

Philip  was  silent.  "  Faustine,"  he  said  at  length, 
"  this  is  dropping  pretty  low." 


24  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


She  began  to  sob  again,  violently. 

"When  did  the  creature  strike  you,  and  why?" 
he  demanded. 

"  This  evening,  after  I — we  had  gone  home." 

"  But  why,"  insisted  Philip. 

"  Because  I  took  your  part  in  the  Cafe  Cardinal 
to-day,  and  because  of  something  I  said  last  night." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  told  them " 

"Them?" 

"  Yes.  Rigault,  Sarre,  Tribert,  and  the  rest,  that 
the  Revolution  would  never  prosper  on  crimes 
like  those  they  were  planning.  He  said  he  would 
beat  me  if  I  said  that  again,  and  to-night  he  did 
so." 

Landes  listened,  shocked  beyond  measure.  "  What 
crimes,  Faustine  ?  " 

For  answer  she  only  wept  and  kept  repeating, 
"  I  am  not  a  traitress !  but  neither  am  I  a  thief,"  and 
he  could  get  nothing  else  from  her.  Presently  he 
said  :  "  You  and  crime !  My  poor  Faustine !  I  never 
thought  of  you  and  crime  together." 

"  C'est  bien  !  "  she  cried  hysterically.  "  If  you  call 
robbing  the  Bank  of  France  to  get  money  for  the 
Revolution  a  crime,  then  you  may  call  me  what  you 
will;  for  when  they  talked  of  that,  I  did  not  oppose 
them.  And  they  '11  doit,  too,  someday.  But  when 
it  comes  to  picking  pockets,  and  murdering  old 
men " 

"  What  's  that  ?  "  cried  Landes. 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  they  would  stop  at  that  ?  It 
was  Tribert  who  planned  it,  and  then  I  told  him  I 


PHILIP  ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  2$ 


hated  him,  and  then — the  rest  happened.  He  struck 
me, — that  canaille  !  " 

"And  the  murder? — 

"  Yes,  of  your  friend's  father,  Colonel  the  Count 
de  Brassac !  " 

Landes  stood  up. 

"  This  is  too  much,"  he  said  sternly. 

Faustine  winced  at  his  tone,  and  her  head  sank 
lower  than  ever. 

"  It  is  that  I  came  to  warn  you,"  she  said  humbly. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said,  and  again  she  shrank  at  his 
tone.  She  spoke  from  that  moment  in  a  suppressed 
voice  of  intense  suffering.  Philip  remembered  after 
ward,  but  at  the  time  he  was  wholly  preoccupied 
with  what  she  had  to  tell  him. 

"  Go  on,  Faustine,"  he  repeated. 

She  began  in  a  dull,  mechanical  voice,  but  clearly  : 

"  Colonel  the  Count  de  Brassac,  father  of  Victor 
de  Brassac,  your  friend,  n'est  ce  pas? — who  won  the 
Prix  de  Rome  and  died  three  years  ago — " 

"Well?" 

"  Colonel  de  Brassac  led  the  cavalry  at  Klar- 
brunnen,  and  was  taken  prisoner.  He  was  paroled 
to  his  home  in  Chartres.  Three  days  ago  he  arrived 
in  Paris.  You  know  all  this?" 

"  Yes,  I  know  it.    His  arrival  was  in  all  the  papers." 

"  Last  night,  Sarre  came  to  us  in  the  Cafe1  Car 
dinal,  and  took  us  to  his  own  place.  There  he  told 
us  that  the  Count  de  Brassac  had  brought  with  him 
some  family  jewels  to  place  for  safe  keeping  in  the 
Bank  of  France.  He  would  not  tell  us  how  he  knew 
it,  but  he  said  the  Count  was  very  careless  with  the 


26  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


jewels,  carrying  them  in  a  small  bag  in  his  pocket, 
and  often  going  out  alone.  Then  Tribert  said  it 
would  be  very  easy  to  rob  him,  and  that  he  had 
better  be  killed  too,  as  that  would  make  less  trouble." 

"  I  shall  warn  Colonel  de  Brassac !  "  said  Philip, 
contemptuously. 

"  It  is  what  I  wished.  But  I  am  not  a  traitress,  I 
am  not !  " 

Landes  was  so  preoccupied  with  disgust  and  in 
dignation,  as  well  as  alarm,  that  he  failed  to  notice 
her  painful  self-defence,  but  he  recalled  it  afterward. 

"  Mazas  and  the  guillotine  will  find  your  friends 
all  in  good  time,  Faustine.  Meanwhile,  had  n't  you 
better  cut  loose  from  them  ?" 

"  I  must  go  back  to  them,"  she  replied  doggedly, 
"and  work  for  the  Republic;  without  crime  and 
Tribert  if  I  can,  with  them  if  I  must.  Dear  Mon 
sieur  Philip,"  she  broke  out  pitifully,  "you  stare  at 
me  so  strangely  !  " 

Landes  looked  at  her,  puzzled.  How  changed 
she  was.  The  associate  of  criminals  ? — he  could  not 
believe  it.  Yet  if  she  was  indeed  that,  why  did  she 
betray  them  ?  Was  it  revenge  for  the  blow?  If  so, 
the  revenge  was  worthy  of  the  company  she  kept. 
The  thought  sickened  him.  She  read  it  in  his  eyes, 
turned  very  pale,  and  rose. 

"  No,"  she  said  gently,  "  you  are  wrong.  It  is  not 
revenge.  I  have  told  you  because  the  Count  de 
Brassac  is  your  friend,  and  you  are  Philip  Landes, — • 
whom  I  love !  " 

Landes  started  and  stepped  back.  "  Nonsense  !  " 
he  began,  but  Faustine  was  already  hurrying  away. 


PHILIP   ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  2/ 


He  stood  and  watched  her  while  she  crossed  the 
Boulevard  St.  Michel,  and  turned  into  the  rue 
Souflot.  He  believed  she  had  told  the  truth,  both 
about  the  facts  and  her  motive  for  revealing  them. 
For  one  thing,  Faustine  never  lied.  He  could  see 
that,  for  the  time  at  least,  Faustine  loved  him,  but 
that  did  not  strike  him  as  of  much  importance.  He 
was  used  to  the  caprices  of  Latin-Quarter  girls,  and 
being  of  a  healthy  mind,  he  did  not  regard  them 
very  seriously  as  a  rule.  He  had  never  cared  for 
one  of  her  kind,  except  in  the  way  of  good  comrade 
ship.  Looking  now  after  Faustine,  he  felt  for  one 
moment  a  touch  of  the  tenderness  which  always 
moves  a  man  toward  a  woman  who  loves  him, — un 
less  she  interferes  with  his  love  for  some  other 
woman.  The  feeling  was  gone  before  she  had  dis 
appeared,  hurrying  down  the  rue  Souflot,  but  he 
stood  a  moment  longer,  musing  upon  the  gay  times 
which  she  had  just  reminded  him  could  never  be 
recalled,  and  thinking  regretfully  how  she  was 
changed  for  the  worse.  Six  months  ago  she  had 
been  a  girl  of  the  Quarter,  educated,  clever,  charm 
ing,  full  of  gaiety,  never  sentimental,  a  perfect  com 
rade  for  a  young  student  occupied  in  making  day 
and  night  a  masterpiece  of  pleasure  as  he  understood 
it.  Landes  had  inherited  healthy  blood,  and  his 
idea  of  pleasure  did  not  include  the  craving  ache  of 
vice,  but  it  did  include  an  undue  proportion  of 
childish  play.  He  found  perfect  satisfaction  for 
some  of  his  needs  in  galloping  through  Meudon 
woods,  in  fishing  the  still  pools  of  the  Caillette,  in 
romping  over  the  fragrant  meadows  of  Versailles. 


28  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Faustine  galloped,  fished,  and  romped,  yet  she  was 
never  vulgar,  never  tiresome,  she  never  lost  a  certain 
dainty  politeness,  even  when  she  lost  her  temper. 
He  supposed  she  had  various  affairs  about  which  he 
knew  nothing,  and  cared  less,  but  for  him  she  was 
merely  an  excellent  playmate,  in  those  days  when 
he  was  still  a  boy  at  heart. 

Sometimes  he  found  his  reputation  for  morality  a 
little  irksome  in  the  Quarter,  where  good  morals  and 
white  blackbirds  are  equally  rare.  He  chafed  a  little 
now  and  then,  when  it  became  too  evident  that  St. 
Anthony  was  considered  to  be  nowhere  compared 
with  him,  but  hard  work  in  the  Ecole  des  Beaux 
Arts,  and  hard  play  outside  of  the  school,  left  him 
not  much  interest  for  what  others  were  saying  of 
him.  And  now  he  stood  watching  Faustine  as  she 
disappeared  down  the  rue  Souflot,  and  it  seemed  a 
dream  that  less  than  one  year  ago  life  had  been  so 
young  and  irresponsible  and  gay. 

Throwing  away  his  cigarette,  he  sighed  and  but 
toned  his  overcoat  close,  for  the  spring  balm  was 
gone  from  the  air,  and  the  night  winds  were  rising. 
Walking  swiftly  down  the  rue  de  Medici,  he  turned 
the  corner  of  the  rue  de  Vaugirard  to  the  Odeon, 
and  entered  the  telegraph  office  in  the  Palais  du 
Senat.  Taking  up  some  blanks,  he  began  to  com 
pose  a  message,  then  stopped  short.  It  rushed 
upon  him  all  at  once  that  he  had  not  the  Count  de 
Brassac's  address.  He  had  forgotten  to  ask  it,  and 
Faustine  had  suddenly  broken  away  without  remem 
bering  to  tell  him  if  she  knew  it.  The  hotel  where 
the  family  had  formerly  lived  when  in  Paris  had 


PHILIP  ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  2Q 

been  sold  since  Victor's  death,  followed  very  shortly 
by  the  death  of  his  mother.  The  old  Count  and  his 
daughter  had  been  living  at  Chartres  when  the  war 
began,  and  Landes  had  not  an  idea  where  the  Count 
would  be  stopping  now.  His  eye  fell  on  the  military 
operator  who  was  looking  sharply  at  him,  and  he 
promptly  walked  into  the  inner  office,  and  saluted 
this  gentleman  with  one  of  those  bows  which  a 
Frenchman  knows  how  to  perform  and  to  appreciate. 
When  in  excellent  French  Landes  asked  for  the 
address  of  Colonel  the  Count  de  Brassac,  Thirtieth 
Huasars  of  the  Guard,  Division  d'Hericourt,  late 
prisoner  of  war  at  Klarbrunnen,  the  operator  was 
no  longer  suspicious,  and  politely  begged  him  to 
wait.  He  brought  out  a  bulky  volume,  and  ran 
over  the  pages,  Landes  watching  him  with  interest, 
a  sentry  with  loaded  chassepot  peering  in  at  Landes 
through  the  barred  window. 

"  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Brassac  is  domiciled  at 
Chartres,  subject  to  orders  from  General  Vinoy,"  he 
said,  after  a  long  search. 

"  But  I  know  that,"  said  Landes,  "  he  came  to 
Paris  recently,  and  I  thought  you  might  be  able  to 
tell  me  where  I  could  get  his  address.  The  operator 
set  the  keys  clicking.  Almost  immediately  answer 
ing  clicks  came  back,  and  he  reappeared  at  the  post- 
office  window. 

"  I  have  telegraphed  to  the  Ministry  of  War,"  he 
said ;  "  Colonel  de  Brassac  has  just  left  General 
Vinoy  to  return  to  his  hotel  in  the  rue  Faublas, 
Number  13." 

"  Ah !     Then    I    know    the    house    well.     Many 


3<D  THE  RED  REPUBLIC, 


thanks,  mon  capitaine,"  and  with  another  ceremo 
nious  salute  Landes  departed,  leaving  the  official 
thoroughly  delighted  at  having  been  mistaken  for  a 
captain  by  such  a  distinguished  gentleman. 

Philip  crossed  the  street,  and,  entering  the  rue 
Monsieur  le  Prince,  cut  through  the  rue  des  Mauvaia 
Menages,  crossed  the  Impasse  Lombard,  and  turned 
up  the  rue  Faublas. 

Four  years  ago  his  friend  of  the  Atelier,  Victor  de 
Brassac,  had  invited  him  to  spend  the  Christmas 
holidays  with  his  family  in  the  little  hotel  there  on 
the  corner.  One  year  later  Victor  died  in  Rome,  at 
the  Villa  Medici.  Landes  had  attended  his  friend's 
funeral  at  St.  Sulpice,  and  had  been  affectionately 
received  by  his  friend's  parents  when  he  went  to 
them  afterward.  But  in  a  few  days  they  left  for 
Nice,  and  soon  after  the  mother  died.  Only  the 
Count  was  left  and  his  daughter  Jeanne.  They  went 
to  live  at  Chartres,  and  Philip  had  never  seen  them 
since. 

Landes  walked  slowly  up  to  the  gate  and  rang  the 
bell.  The  same  old  porter  came  toddling  out  of 
his  lodge,  and  admitted  him  into  the  court,  where  a 
servant  met  and  led  him  through  the  garden,  and 
into  the  house. 

When  the  servant  had  gone  away  with  his  card, 
Landes  stood  and  looked  about  the  drawing-room. 
It  had  never  been  refurnished.  There  stood  the 
same  piano  where  Victor's  young  sister  Jeanne, 
home  for  her  school  holidays,  had  played  her  little 
convent  pieces,  but  there  was  no  warm  glow  of  a 
sea-coal  fire  in  the  empty  grate,  and  in  the  light 


PHILIP  ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  31 


from  a  single  lamp  the  familiar  colors  looked  pale 
and  faded.  The  Colonel  entered,  and  Landes  was 
shocked  at  the  change  in  him.  He  had  grown  old 
and  white  and  small.  His  uniform  glittered  on  him 
like  a  jewelled  case  on  a  mummy.  He  came  to 
Philip  with  both  hands  outstretched. 

"  My  son's  friend  !  You  are  welcome,  Monsieur 
Landes."  Then  they  sat  down  and  spoke  of  Victor 
and  the  Prix  de  Rome  and  his  first  envoi,  of  his 
death,  and  of  his  mother's  death. 

"  My  wife  died  of  a  broken  heart,"  said  the  Colo 
nel. 

"  I  know  it,  Monsieur  le  Comte,"  said  Philip,  and 
they  were  silent,  looking  sadly  at  each  other  in  the 
faded  room. 

"And  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac?"  said  Philip, 
after  a  while ;  "  happily,  she  escaped  the  siege.  I 
hope  she  is  well." 

"  My  daughter  is  well,  and  is  with  me  in  Paris, 
though  not  at  this  hotel.  I  sold  it  at  the  time,  and 
we  have  lived  ever  since  at  Chartres.  But  the 
present  owner,  who  lives  in  London  since  the 
troubles,  placed  the  house  at  my  disposal,  when  I 
returned  to  Paris.  But  I  only  come  here  sometimes 
from  the  War  Office,  because  it  is  so  near.  The  house 
is  too  full  of  memories  for  my  little  girl.  Jeanne 
and  I  are  stopping  in  the  Hotel  Perret  in  the  Place 
Pigalle,  but  we  return  to  Chartres  on  the  i8th  of 
March,  the  day  after  to-morrow.  All  our  friends  are 
gone  from  Paris.  There  is  not  one  left  to  whom  I 
could  confide  Jeanne,  and  she  can't  be  here  alone. 
Come  to  us  before  we  go.  Come  to  Chartres  when 


32  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


you  can,  to  the  Chateau  de  Brassac."  And  then 
they  spoke  of  war,  of  humiliation  and  disaster  and 
defeat,  of  the  siege  and  its  horrors,  the  insubordina 
tion  of  the  National  Guard,  the  removal  of  the  can 
non,  and  what  it  threatened. 

All  this  time  Landes  had  been  wondering  how  he 
should  say  what  he  had  come  to  say.  He  felt  his 
youth,  and  had  a  horror  of  seeming  officious.  He 
cast  about  in  his  mind  for  a  way  to  approach  the 
subject,  and  ended  by  going  straight  to  the  point. 

"  Count  de  Brassac,"  he  said,  standing  up,  "  I 
heard  an  hour  ago  that  you  are  in  personal  danger. 
Some  ruffians  have  learned,  or  think  they  have,  that 
you  carry  about  with  you  some  valuable  diamonds, 
and  they  have  planned  to  waylay  and  rob  you." 

The  Count  rose  too.  "  That  is  true,"  he  said 
quietly,  "  however  it  has  become  known.  I  did  bring 
a  small  bag  of  diamonds  up  with  me  to  deposit  in 
the  Bank  of  France.  They  are  about  all  Jeanne  will 
have  at  my  death.  I  have  almost  nothing  else  left 
except  the  Chateau,  and  old  chateaux  don't  bring 
much  in  the  market  nowadays,"  he  added,  rather  bit 
terly.  "  There  were  two  attempts  at  burglary  made 
at  our  house  in  Chartres,  showing  some  one  knew 
they  were  there,  so  I  came  up  to  Paris  with  them." 

"  But,  pardon ! — it  is  such  a  risk  to  carry  them 
about." 

"  I  did  not  mean  to.  I  have  tried  twice  already 
to  see  the  Marquis  de  Ploeuc  of  the  Bank  of  France. 
To-night  I  have  an  appointment  to  meet  him  at  the 
Luxembourg.  Perhaps  he  will  receive  and  put 
them  somewhere  in  safe  keeping  to-night ;  if  not,  to- 


PHILIP  ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  33 


morrow  they  will  be  deposited  in  the  Bank  of 
France." 

"  The  sooner  the  better,"  said  Landes,  unable 
quite  to  restrain  his  impatience.  "  The  criminal 
element  here  is  growing  more  openly  threatening 
than  I  have  ever  seen  it.  I  never  before  encountered, 
in  all  Paris,  so  many  hang-dog  faces  as  I  now  meet 
daily  in  the  Latin  Quarter.  Pardon,  Count,  but,  in 
deed,  it  is  not  safe  to  carry  these  jewels  on  your 
person.  You  see  there  are  already  some  thieves  and 
cut-throats  who  know  about  them." 

"  So  it  appears,"  said  the  old  soldier,  dryly. 
"  Would  it  interest  you  to  look  at  what  Messieurs 
the  pickpockets  find  so  desirable?"  He  drew  a 
small  leather  bag  from  the  pocket  of  his  dolman  and 
handed  it  to  Philip.  "  Open  it,"  he  said,  smiling.  A 
small  cascade  of  flashing  stones  fell  on  to  a  table  be 
side  them.  The  gems  were  large  and  of  splendid 
lustre.  The  sight  increased  Landes'  uneasiness  and 
he  ventured  to  press  his  warning  more  urgently. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Count,  "  I  confess  I  cannot  feel 
that  there  is  really  any  danger,  but  if  there  is,  it  will 
soon  be  over.  Either  to-night,  or  to-morrow  at  the 
latest,  they  will  be  in  safe  keeping.  And,  pardon 
me,  but  it  only  wants  a  quarter  of  the  hour  when  I 
must  be  at  the  Luxembourg." 

"  Will  you  let  me  accompany  you  ?  " 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure.  I  shall  be  delighted 
to  have  your  company, — one  moment  to  change  my 
uniform.  But  first  permit  me — "  and  he  offered 
Landes  a  glass  of  wine  from  a  tray  the  servant 
placed  before  him.  They  bowed  to  each  other  and 


34  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


drank  in  silence.  As  the  Count  set  down  his  glass, 
he  said  once  more :  "  Monsieur,  you  were  my  son's 
friend."  He  excused  himself  and  withdrew,  quickly 
returning  in  a  simple  fatigue  jacket  without  a  sword 
belt.  Philip  noted  this,  but  as  a  young  man  and  a 
civilian  he  felt  it  impossible  to  say  anything ;  be 
sides  he  could  not  but  hope  that  the  Colonel  would 
at  least  have  a  revolver  in  his  pocket.  All  the  more 
that  now  he  saw  how  few  precautions  of  that  sort 
his  old  friend  was  inclined  to  take,  he  regretted  bit 
terly  his  own  habit  of  going  unarmed. 

They  traversed  the  court,  and,  passing  through 
the  gate,  entered  the  dark  street.  It  was  quite  de 
serted.  They  walked  along  in  silence,  the  Colonel's 
spurs  ringing  faintly  with  the  rhythmic  tap  of  Lan- 
des'  cane.  A  single  gas  jet  illuminated  the  rue  Fau- 
blas,  but  when  they  turned  into  the  narrow  Impasse 
Lombard  not  a  ray  of  light  remained.  The  tall  old 
houses  were  closed  and  silent ;  the  stream  of  water 
running  along  the  gutter  rippled  like  a  mountain 
brook  in  the  silence. 

"  Do  I  walk  too  fast?  "  asked  Philip. 

"  No,  my  child,"  said  the  old  officer,  and  his  voice 
showed  that  he  was  smiling.  "  Do  you  think  I  am  a 
pensionnaire  of  the  Invalides  ?  " 

"  Not  after  Klarbrunnen,"  began  Philip,  but  just 
then  they  had  reached  the  corner  of  the  rue  des 
Mauvais-Menages,  and  he  stopped  short. 

"  Well,  mon  enfant  ?  "  inquired  the  Colonel,  strid 
ing  ahead. 

"  I  thought  we  were  followed,"  said  Landes,  peer 
ing  back  into  the  darkness. 


PHILIP  ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  35 


"  I  thought  so  too,"  said  the  Colonel. 

They  went  on  quietly  but  heard  nothing  except 
their  own  footsteps.  They  reached  the  rue  Monsieur 
le  Prince. 

"How  dark  it  looks,"  murmured  Landes,  "and 
not  a  thing  stirring,  not  even  a  cat." 

"You  ate  all  the  tabbies  last  winter,"  began  the 
Colonel,  laughing.  Philip  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  There  come  the  steps  again,  always  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street."  They  stared  into  the 
shadows  behind  them.  "  You  have  your  revolver  ?  " 
said  Landes. 

"  No,  I  have  not.  I  am  to  blame  Philip,  but 
you ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  carry  one,  and  to-night  I  did  not 
know  that  one  would  be  needed.  I  came  to  you  on 
very  short  notice, — the  moment  I  was  warned  myself. 
But  my  stick  is  heavy 

"I  am  to  blame,"  repeated  the  old  soldier;  "it 
was  a  foolish  act  to  leave  the  revolver.  But  I  think 
after  all  we  were  mistaken.  Listen,  we  are  not  fol 
lowed."  They  listened  ;  not  a  step  could  be  heard. 
They  turned  into  the  rue  Monsieur  le  Prince ;  that 
was  better  lighted,  and  a  few  people  were  afoot  there. 
Landes  drew  a  long  breath  as  they  came  in  sight  of 
the  gilded  iron  railing  of  the  Luxembourg.  "  Now !  " 
he  thought,  but  to  his  amazement  the  Count  kept 
straight  on,  and  entered  the  Gardens  by  the  gate  of 
the  Fountain  of  Marie  de  Medici.  Landes  followed, 
protesting  earnestly. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  "  said  the  Count,  laughing,  "  what 
would  you  have  ?  It  is  the  short  cut." 


36  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

"  But  it  is  only  a  few  moments  longer  by  the 
street,"  urged  Landes,  "  and  these  trees  are  too  thick 
for  a  dark  night." 

"  Not  for  young  eyes  like  yours  and  mine,"  per 
sisted  the  old  soldier,  and  Philip  chafed  to  hear 
the  smile  in  his  voice.  But  he  followed  without 
another  word,  and  they  crossed  together  the  strip  of 
turf  which  separates  the  shrub-grown  path  from  the 
long,  square  pool  of  the  fountain.  Here  gigantic 
sycamores  threw  their  shadow  on  the  gravel,  and  a 
thicket  of  shrubs,  dense,  although  leafless,  cast  a  deep 
gloom  over  the  shallow  reaches  of  the  pool. 

"  There  are  the  barracks,"  said  the  Count,  taking 
off  his  fatigue  cap,  and  passing  a  handkerchief  over 
his  forehead.  "  Mon  Dieu  !  How  you  walk,  Mon 
sieur  the  American.  Have  all  the  young  men  in 
America  legs  like  that  ?  " 

Landes  did  not  answer.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on 
the  thicket  close  behind  him.  Quick  as  a  flash  he 
raised  his  stick  and  at  the  same  moment  Sarre  felled 
him  from  behind. 

When  he  recovered  consciousness,  and  the  roaring 
in  his  ears  had  partly  died  away,  he  heard  Tribert's 
voice  very  near : 

"  Throw  that  American  into  the  water.  No,  don't 
search  him.  I  did  that.  What  the  devil  are  you 
doing,  Sarre?  Leave  the  Count  alone."  Then  he 
swore  frightfully,  cursing  Sarre  and  Georgias  by 
name. 

"  The  Count  did  n't  have  the  diamonds  on  him, 
after  all,"  snarled  Georgias,  delivering  a  kick  at 
Landes'  body. 


PHILIP  ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  37 

"You  lie,  you  bungling  Greek!  I  tell  you  I  heard 
them  fall  into  the  water.' 

"If  you  would  look  more  carefully  in  his  clothes," 
— suggested  Sarre,  with  an  anxious  snicker. 

"  Oh,  you  make  me  sick,  you  scented,  fat-headed 
bungler !  The  bag  fell  into  the  water,  I  heard  it. 
I  told  you  to  keep  him  away  from  the  edge.  Unless 

Pagot  comes  back  with  that  light  pretty  d d 

quick,  we  '11  lose  the  diamonds,  and  if  he  does  come, 
they  '11  see  it  at  the  corps  de  garde  and  be  down  on 
us.  Georgias,  do  you  hear?  Help  me  drop  this 
American  pork  overboard." 

"Onthebag  of  diamonds, "giggled  Sarre,  nervously. 
"  Only  wait  till  Pagot  brings  a  light.  Damn  the 
lazy  fool,  why  don't  he  hurry  ?  Shall  I  slip  my  knife 
into  the  American  ?  He  's  breathing  and  trying  to 
turn  over,"  said  Georgias. 

"Yes,"  muttered  Tribert,  "stick  him  deep  behind 
the  ear.— Hark  !— is  that  Pagot  ?  " 

"  Qui  vive  ?  " 

"  Friends,"  stammered  Georgias. 

"  Halt !  "  shouted  a  voice  behind  them,  with  a  rat 
tle  of  accoutrements  and  the  stamp  of  horses'  hoofs. 

"  The  cavalry  !  "  whispered  Tribert.  "  They  are 
on  the  grass  among  the  trees.  Stick  the  American  ! 
— stick  the  American,  quick  !  What  are  you  shaking 
for  ? — idiot  !  fool !— Give  me  the  knife  ! — Give  it, 
I  say !  " 

"  Advance  three  paces,  friends  of  France,"  came 
the  order  close  beside  them. 

Tribert  seized  the  knife.  A  lantern  flashed  in  his 
face. 


38  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


"  A  1' assassin  !  "  "A  1'assassin  !  "  came  the  star 
tled  cry  of  the  vedette,  and  bang!  bang!  bang! 
rang  the  cavalry  carbines,  while  the  drums  crashed 
out  in  the  guard-house  below,  and  a  bugle  sent  the 
echoes  flying  among  the  trees. 

"  Au  secours  !  "  gasped  Landes,  and  fainted  dead 
away. 

"  Cochon  !  "  panted  Tribert,  hurling  the  knife  at 
his  throat.  "  Attrape  ton  secours  !  " 


Lights  were  dancing  before  Philip's  eyes  when 
consciousness  returned  again,  and  tall  figures  moved 
slowly  about  him,  in  apparently  aimless  circles. 
After  a  while  his  mind  grew  clearer,  and  he  began 
to  remember.  Then  a  sudden  fear  chilled  him  and 
he  tried  to  rise  on  his  elbow. 

"  The  Count,"  he  said  weakly.  "  Where  is  the 
Count  de  Brassac  ?  " 

The  moving  figures  seemed  to  be  struck  motion 
less.  Some  one  brought  a  light  close  to  him,  and  he 
saw  that  he  was  lying  on  a  military  cot  covered  with 
soldiers'  blankets.  He  was  in  a  big  gray  room  and 
all  about  him  soldiers  moved.  Their  motion  and 
the  light  pained  his  eyes,  and  his  head  ached  as  if 
the  skull  would  fly  into  splinters. 

A  white-haired  officer  came,  and  another,  a  sur 
geon,  readjusted  a  bandage  about  his  throat,  and 
laid  something  cool  over  his  eyes  and  forehead. 

"  Can  you  speak  ?  "  asked  the  officer. 

"Yes,"  said  Landes,  but  his  own  voice  jarred  his 
head,  and  the  jar  sickened  him. 


PHILIP  ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  39 


"You  were  attacked.     Do  you  remember  how?  " 

"  I  was  with  the  Count  de  Brassac.  He  stopped  a 
moment  by  the  fountain  to  rest.  He  was  laughing 
because  I  walked  so  fast.  Then — then  I  don't  re 
member — oh,  yes — something  looked  out  from  the 
thicket — the  face  of  a  thief — Tribert.  I  struck  at 
him  with  my  cane — then — then — I  don't  remember." 
The  pain  was  severe  and  he  had  to  stop  and  wait 
until  the  throbbing  of  his  brain  subsided  a  little. 

"  What  is  his  name,  the  man  you  saw  in  the 
thicket  ?  " 

"Tribert." 

"  Where  does  he  live  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  have  seen  him  in  the  Caf£  Car 
dinal.  There  were  other — other  thieves.  I  heard 
them  talking  when  I  lay  on  the  ground." 

"  Who  were  the  others?  " 

"  Georgias,  the  Greek  ;  Andre  Sarre,  student  in  the 
ficole  de  Medecine  ;  and  a  man  they  called  Pagot." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  Philip  Landes,  citizen  of  the  United   States,  liv 
ing  at  70  rue  Notre  Dame,  student  of  painting  in  the  . 
Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts."     Pain  forced  him  to  stop 
again. 

"  Make  one  more  effort,"  said  the  officer.  "  There 
is  no  danger  ?  " — turning  to  the  surgeon. 

"  Oh,  no,  he  is  not  badly  injured.  There  is  no 
fracture,  and  the  knife  only  grazed  the  skin  of  his 
throat,  but  the  pain  confuses  him." 

"  Try,  again  then,  Monsieur  Landes.  Try  to  tell 
me  all  you  know  about  the  affair." 

Philip  made  a  desperate  effort  to  concentrate  his 


4O  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


mind,  and  succeeded.  As  his  mind  grew  clear,  he 
realized  that  he  must  speak  warily,  or  he  should 
compromise  Faustine,  and  he  was  resolved  not  to  do 
that  if  it  could  be  avoided.  So  when  at  last  he  told 
his  story  in  a  weak  voice,  with  long  pauses,  he  left 
her  out  of  it  altogether. 

He  said  in  substance  that  he  could  not  mistake 
the  thieves  for  he  had  met  the  whole  lot  of  them  that 
afternoon  in  the  Caf6  Cardinal,  and  been  insulted  by 
them  because  he  was  an  American.  Their  voices  were 
unmistakable.  After  dinner,  he  had  wanted  to  call 
on  his  old  friend,  the  Count  de  Brassac,  returned 
three  days  ago  to  Paris, — "  Monsieur  knew  ?  " 

Oh,  yes,  the  officer  knew  all  about  that. 

Well,  Landes  said,  he  had  found  the  Count's  ad- 
dress  at  the  telegraph  office  in  the  Palais  du  S£nat. 
The  Count  was  in  the  old  hotel  of  the  family,  rue 
Faublas.  Philip  had  gone  there  after  dinner  and 
had  found  him.  The  Count  had  shown  him  a  small 
bag  of  diamonds  which  he  had  brought  up  to  Paris 
to  place  for  safekeeping  in  the  Bank  of  France.  He 
was  going  to  keep  an  appointment  to  meet  the  Mar 
quis  de  Ploeuc  this  evening. 

"  It  seemed  to  me,"  said  Landes,  "  that  he  carried 
the  diamonds  rather  recklessly,  and  when  I  found 
that  he  was  going  to  the  Luxembourg  quite  alone,  I 
begged  permission  to  accompany  him."  Then  he 
related  the  rest,  and  at  last  resolutely  asked  the  ques 
tion  whose  answer  he  had  been  dreading  to  hear. 

"  And  the  Count  de  Brassac  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  le  Comte  is  very  badly  hurt-'* 

"He  is  dead?"     - 


PHILIP  ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  4! 


"  He  was  killed  by  a  knife-thrust." 

"  That  was  Georgias,"  whispered  Landes.  and 
fainted  away  again. 

They  would  not  let  him  talk  any  more,  and  to 
that  end  kept  him  well  under  the  influence  of  mor 
phine.  He  slept  heavily  all  the  next  day,  and  only 
woke  at  night  long  enough  to  passively  take  some 
soup.  Next  morning  he  awoke  from  a  dreamless 
slumber  and  looked  at  the  white-haired  officer  who 
was  standing  by  watching  him. 

"  Good  !  "  said  that  gentleman.  "  Monsieur  is 
better." 

Philip  sat  up.  There  was  plenty  of  lassitude  and 
stiffness  in  his  muscles,  and  his  head  felt  queer,  but 
he  answered  :  "  I  am  quite  well.  I  must  get  up." 

"  When  you  like,  but  first  a  word,  if  you  please." 

The  officer  took  some  papers  from  his  pocket. 
"Those  are  the  papers  found  upon  you  two  nights 
ago.  One  is  a  letter  notifying  you  of  your  expul 
sion  from  the  Students  League,  on  account  of  your 
being  an  American.  It  is  signed  by  Raoul  Rigault 
and  countersigned  by  Andre  Sarre.  And  this  is  the 
telegram  you  wrote  to  the  Count  de  Brassac,  with 
out  sending,  at  the  office  of  the  Palais  du  Senat,  the 
same  night.  The  operator  in  charge  remembers  you 
and  corroborates  your  account."  After  a  pause  the 
officer  went  on  :  "  The  Count  de  Brassac  died  about 
half-past  eleven  on  the  night  of  the  assault.  He 
recovered  consciousness  before  he  died.  His  daugh 
ter  was  summoned  and  was  with  him.  He  was  able 
to  speak  with  her." 

"Poor  little  Jeanne!'      Philip  suddenly  saw  the 


42  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


desolate  child  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears.  He  had 
not  spoken,  but  the  white-haired  officer  said,  kindly : 

"You  are  right,  Monsieur!" 

"We  are  anxious  about  the  jewels,"  he  went  on. 
"  They  were  found  in  the  basin  of  the  fountain,  and 
should  have  been  given  at  once  to  the  Marquis  de 
Ploeuc,  but  by  some  mistake  they  were  left  in  the 
hands  of  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac's  maid,  and  are  now 
in  the  de  Brassac  apartments  at  the  Hotel  Ferret." 

"Oh,  that  is  wrong!  Some  harm  will  come  to 
the  young  lady  if  the  thieves  know  she  has  those 
jewels  in  her  possession  !  " 

"  That  is  what  we  fear,  although  at  present  an 
orderly  is  on  guard  there  subject  to  her  commands ; 
but  when  you  are  able  to  go  there,  Monsieur,  I 
think  you  can  be  of  great  service  to  her.  The  Count 
spoke  to  her  of  you  before  he  died." 

The  officer  bowed,  and  Landes  felt  that  he  was 
trusted. 

"  Have  the  murderers  been  caught  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  and  it  will  be  a  difficult  matter  to  take 
them.  Listen,  Monsieur  Landes.  They  are  the 
soul  and  centre  of  a  widespread  conspiracy.  There 
is  more  than  murder  in  it.  We  have  stumbled  upon 
a  plot  whose  ramifications  give  great  cause  for 
anxiety.  The  government  has  been  notified,  the 
police  are  working  secretly,  the  newspapers  have 
been  prevented  from  publishing  any  account  of  the 
murder.  They  reported  the  Count's  death  from  a 
stroke  of  paralysis.  The  Count  was  buried  yesterday 
at  Montrouge,  privately.  If  possible,  Mademoiselle 
de  Brassac  should  leave  Paris  for  Chartres  to-day." 


PHILIP   ACTS  AS  ESCORT.  43 


"What  is  to-day?" 

"The  i8th." 

"  Then  I  have  been  ill  two  nights  and  a  day  ?  " 

"  Exactly." 

Landes  sprang  up  without  further  ceremony. 
When  he  was  dressed  and  was  shaking  hands  with 
the  surgeon,  who  pronounced  him  all  right,  but 
advised  him  to  keep  his  head  cool  and  avoid  excite 
ment  for  the  present,—''  for,"  said  the  doctor,  laugh 
ing,  "  they  did  n't  crack  your  skull,  but  they  came 
very  neeir  it," — just  at  that  moment  an  orderly  en 
tered  and  handed  a  note  to  the  white-haired  officer. 

"  What  are  you  doing  away  from  the  Hotel  Per- 
ret?"  asked  that  gentleman,  sharply. 

"  Mademoiselle  insisted,  mon  capitaine." 

The  captain  shrugged  and  turned  abruptly  to 
Landes. 

"  Mademoiselle  is  now  entirely  alone  with  her 
maid  in  the  Hotel  Ferret.  She  sends  a  note  asking 
if  Mr.  Philip  Landes  will  be  well  enough  to  call 
upon  her  before  she  leaves  for  Chartres.  If  not,  she 
says  she  '11  come  here  with  her  maid.  She  wishes  to 
thank  you,  Monsieur,  and  to  give  you  a  message 
from  her  father.  She  should  have  found  some  other 
messenger  than  the  orderly  who  was  there  to  protect 
her.  Perhaps  there  is  no  time  to  lose,  Monsieur." 

"  Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  send  for  a  cab?" 
said  Philip. 

While  he  was  waiting,  stick  and  hat  in  hand,  after 
he  had  made  the  proper  acknowledgments  and  ex 
changed  very  cordial  adieus,  the  captain  said  to 
him,  drily : 


44  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Well,  the  troops  left  this  morning  to  retake  the 
cannon  on  Montmartre." 

"Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Landes,  "  it  was  time." 

"Yes,  it  was  time,  and  do  you  know  what  con 
vinced  M.  Thiers  also  that  it  was  time  ?  They  say 
it  was  the  revelations  which  reached  him  in  connec 
tion  with  this  murder  of  the  Count  de  Brassac." 

"  The  conspiracy  of  which  you  spoke  alarms  M. 
Thiers  ?  " 

"  Let  us  hope  so,"  answered  the  captain,  with  a 
glance  at  the  surgeon. 

A  dragoon  entered  and  announced  the  cab.  They 
shook  hands  once  more  cordially.  Philip  hurried 
out  and  jumped  into  the  cab,  crying:  "Hotel  Fer 
ret,  Place  Pigalle.  Drive  quickly."  The  white- 
haired  captain  watched  him  to  the  end  of  the  street, 
then  turned  back  into  the  guard-room  with  a  curse. 

"  And  you  are — blessing  whom,  mon  capitaine  ?  " 
blandly  inquired  the  surgeon,  lighting  a  cigarette. 

"  Louis  XVI.,  of  course,"  growled  the  other. 

The  surgeon  blew  several  smoke  rings  out  of  the 
barred  window,  removed  the  cigarette  from  his  lips, 
whistled  a  little,  and  then,  looking  straight  at  the 
captain,  he  deliberately  sang  the  following  remark 
able  couplet : 

"  C'est  Adolphe  Thiers  qu'on  me  nomme, 
Sacre  nom  d'un  petit  bonhomme  !  " 

This  being  rank  treason,  the  captain  walked  out 
of  ear-shot. 


CHAPTER  III. 

AN  HISTORICAL  INTERLUDE. 

PARIS   had    been    singing   Rochefort's   couplet 
now  for  several  weeks. 

On  the  2/th  of  the  month  preceding  this, 
in  which  our  story  begins,  a  proclamation  was 
sent  by  the  National  Assembly  at  Bordeaux  to  the 
citizens  of  Paris,  urging  them  to  accept  quietly  the 
hard  terms  of  the  surrender.  The  German  army 
would  enter  Paris,  it  said,  and  occupy  the  zone,  from 
the  bridge  of  Courbevoie,  with  the  Place  de  la  Con 
corde,  and  the  gardens  of  the  Tuileries  as  the  ex 
treme  limit. 

"  If  the  terms  of  surrender  are  not  respected," 
continued  the  proclamation,  "  the  truce  will  be  bro 
ken.  The  enemy,  already  master  of  the  forts,  will 
seize  by  violence  the  entire  city.  Your  property, 
your  public  works,  your  chefs-d'oeuvre  of  art  will 
no  longer  be  guaranteed  by  the  agreement.  This 
misfortune  will  fall  on  all  France.  The  terrible  rav 
ages  of  war,  which  have  not  yet  passed  the  Loire, 
will  then  reach  the  Pyrenees.  It  is  therefore  the 
exact  truth  that  with  you  rests  the  safety  of  France." 

Ernest  Picard  followed  this  with  a  despatch. 
"  The  Germans  offered  to  renounce  entry  into  Paris 
if  Belfort  were  ceded  to  them  forever.  We  replied 

45 


46  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


that  if  anything  could  console  Paris  in  her  suffering 
and  humiliation  it  would  be  the  thought  that  our 
suffering  saved  Belfort  to  France."  Comforted  by 
this,  the  Parisians  quietly  prepared  to  endure  the 
occupation.  The  city  was  ready  to  accept  the  terms. 
The  city  was,  but  \hsfaubourgs  were  not.  In  many 
of  the  suburbs,  especially  in  revolutionary  Mont- 
martre  and  Belleville,  the  turbulent  population,  see 
ing  the  city  patient,  began  to  call  for  blood.  These 
quarters  had  distinct  ideas  as  to  whose  blood  they 
wanted  shed.  During  the  siege,  when  it  was  neces 
sary  to  repel  Invasion  at  the  cost  of  their  own,  the 
battalions  of  Montmartre  and  Belleville  were  not  dis 
tinguished  for  reckless  bravery.  There  was  even 
some  scandal.  They  were  not  mentioned  enthusi 
astically  in  the  orders  from  headquarters,  and  in 
some  cases  disciplinary  measures  were  employed  ; 
and  now,  when  all  good  citizens  had  reconciled 
themselves  to  the  inevitable,  these  battalions  cocked 
their  caps,  polished  up  their  gold  facings,  and  yelled 
for  Prussian  blood.  The  mysterious  Central  Com 
mittee  incited  and  supported  them,  proving  that  the 
roots  of  this  organization  were  imbedded  in  anar 
chism.  It  gloated  over  the  prospect  of  what  was  sure 
to  follow  on  the  firing  of  the  first  shot.  The  Prussians 
would  throw  themselves  on  the  city  like  mad  men ; 
Mont  Valerien  would  pound  the  fashionable  quarters 
to  powder.  What  pickings !  during  the  sack  of  the  city 
which  would  follow !  The  first  and  last  article  of  faith 
for  the  Central  Committee  and  those  whom  it  repre 
sented  was  the  ruin  of  the  Bourgeoisie.  Montmartre 
and  Belleville  listened  and  howled  approval. 


AN  HISTORICAL  INTERLUDE.  47 


Then  for  two  nights  battalions,  hastily  formed, 
but  numbering  in  all  thirty  thousand  men,  massed 
themselves  in  the  Champs  Elysees  as  far  as  the  Ave 
nue  de  la  Grande-Arm£e  with  the  avowed  purpose 
of  preventing  the  entry  of  the  Germans,  but  General 
Vinoy,  who  was  commander-in-chief  of  the  National 
Guard,  as  well  as  of  the  regular  army,  put  a  stop  to 
this  grotesque  fanfaronade. 

"  The  rappel  was  beaten  last  night,"  he  said,  "  but 
the  drummers  had  no  orders,  and  they  will  be  court- 
martialed.  Some  battalions  took  up  arms  with 
treasonable  intent,  but  the  majority  of  the  Guard 
remained  quiet.  They  understood  what  is  the  duty 
of  all  good  citizens." 

This  sobered  the  faubourgs,  and  when  the  Ger 
man  newspapers  announced  that  if  there  should  be 
any  disorder  in  Paris  during  the  occupation,  the 
Prussian  army,  with  King  William  at  its  head,  would 
take  possession  of  the  entire  city,  and  would  bring 
back  Napoleon  III.  to  the  Tuileries,  that  produced 
a  still  more  profound  impression  in  the  suburbs. 
Belleville  was  silent,  Montmartre  thoughtful,  and  the 
insidious  Central  Committee  urged  the  discontented 
battalions  to  retire  with  dignity,  but  to  keep  their 
arms.  Next  day,  not  a  National  Guardsman  was  to 
be  seen  in  the  Champs  Elysees.  Then  the  Central 
Committee,  from  its  obscurity,  spread  broadcast 
throughout  Paris  this  printed  circular  : 

"  Where  are  the  cannon  of  the  National  Guard  ? 
Soldiers  of  the  battalions  of  Belleville  and  Mont 
martre  !  these  cannon  are  yours.  You  paid  for 
them,  your  sisters,  wives,  and  children  contributed 


48  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


to  them, — are  they  to  be  surrendered  to  the  Prus 
sians  ?  " 

It  was  a  thunder-clap  from  a  clear  sky.  Nobody 
had  thought  about  the  cannon.  At  that  time  the 
National  Guard  numbered  150,000  men,  divided  into 
250  battalions,  and  each  battalion  possessed  a  can 
non.  In  spite  of  General  Vinoy's  orders,  this  im 
mense  mass  of  men  felt  their  power  and  now  they 
began  to  clamor. 

"  We  bought  them,  they  are  ours,  they  shall  not 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Prussians !  "  the  cry  went 
up. 

That  was  the  time  when  Monsieur  Thiers  should 
have  shown  his  teeth.  He  may  have  had  none  ;  he 
certainly  did  not  exhibit  any.  He  temporized. 
Jules  Favre  in  the  preliminaries  of  peace  had  begged 
Bismarck  to  allow  the  National  Guard  to  retain  their 
rifles.  Bismarck  grinned  and  politely  acceded  to  the 
request,  thinking,  "what  an  ass,  this  M.  Favre." 
Now  the  National  Guard  not  only  possessed  300,000 
rifles  with  sabre  bayonets,  but  was  also  reaching  for 
250  pieces  of  cannon  and  mitrailleuses.  Monsieur 
Thiers  thought  this  amusing.  The  National  As 
sembly  was  bickering  over  the  question  of  permitting 
the  Orleans  princes  to  return,  and  paid  no  attention 
to  the  cannon.  Col.  Schoelcher,  commanding  the 
artillery,  begged  Thiers  to  interefere.  Thiers  refused. 
The  poor  Colonel  then  attempted  to  stem  the  rising 
tide  himself.  He  offered  to  give  the  battalions  their 
pieces  if,  one  by  one,  each  battalion  would  receive 
its  pieces  from  him  in  the  Jardin  de  1'Archeveche, 
but  they  laughed  in  his  face.  These  250  cannon 


AN  HISTORICAL   INTERLUDE.  49 


and  mitrailleuses  were  assembled  in  ranks  of  fifty  in 
the  Cours-la-Reine.  One  day  an  order  came,  from 
whom  perhaps  no  one  but  the  Central  Committee 
knew.  The  cannon  were  seized  by  the  National 
Guard,  who,  with  drums  and  bugles  sounding, 
marched  as  convoy,  while  hundreds  of  horses 
dragged  the  guns  up  the  hill  of  Montmartre.  Thiers 
was  very  much  amused,  it  appeared,  and  the  comic 
journals  rang  the  changes  on  the  joke,  until  one  day 
a  staff  officer  went  up  the  hill  of  Montmartre  to  see 
these  famous  cannon,  and  came  back  with  his  hair 
on  end  and  his  sabre  between  his  legs.  This  startled 
Monsieur  Thiers  who  was  by  nature  timid,  and  when 
the  staff  officer  had  told  his  tale,  the  hair  on  Mon 
sieur  Thiers'  head  rose  likewise.  Two  hundred  and 
fifty  guns  of  7  and  12  concentrated  upon  Paris  !  It 
was  not,  after  all,  very  amusing.  The  city  began  to 
look  serious.  People  cast  sidelong  glances  at  this 
hill  glittering  with  loaded  guns.  "  The  Prussians 
have  gone,"  they  said  to  each  other,  "  why  are  the 
cannon  still  there?"  Thiers  heard  these  murmurs, 
and — temporized.  The  public  grew  more  and  more 
anxious,  the  Radical  newspapers  began  to  give 
Monsieur  Thiers  advice.  He  listened — and  tempo 
rized.  "  Take  away  the  cannon,"  cried  the  people. 
"Please  give  me  your  cannon,"  mumbled  the  chief 
of  the  Executive  Power.  When  refused  with 
taunts  and  jeers  of  "  Come  and  take  them,"  he 
turned  with  a  senile  snarl  on  the  newspapers  and 
suppressed  six,  the  "Vengeur,"  the  "Cri  du  Peuple," 
Henri  Rochefort's  "Mot  d'Ordre,"  "Pere  Duchene," 
and  two  humble  sheets,  "La  Caricature"  and  the 


5O  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Bouche  de  Fer."  This  was  attacking  the  liberty  of 
the  Press,  a  bad  precedent  for  the  party  of  order  and 
toleration  to  establish.  General  d'Aurelle  de  Pala- 
dines,  the  victorious  leader  at  Coulmiers,  and  actual 
general  in  command  of  the  National  Guard,  worked 
with  heart  and  soul  to  restore  discipline.  The  gov 
ernment  arrived  in  Paris  from  Bordeaux  on  its  way  to 
Versailles.  The  people  begged  that  it  might  stay. 
Thiers  refused  and  ordered  Versailles  to  be  made 
ready.  It  would  take  some  weeks  to  prepare  for 
the  reception  of  the  Ministers  there,  so  meanwhile 
the  National  Assembly  remained  in  Paris.  Thiers 
occupied  the  Ministry  of  Foreign  Affairs. 

Montmartre  was  guarded  by  500  men  and  250 
cannon.  There  were  no  leaders,  unless  Assi  and 
Lullier  could  be  called  such.  Leaders  were  needed, 
and  the  stupidity  of  the  government  at  once  fur 
nished  them.  The  "Third  Court-Martial  "  had  been 
sitting  for  the  last  four  months  in  connection  with 
the  affair  of  the  3ist  of  October.  Thiers  refused  to 
allow  them  to  retain,  for  the  present,  their  verdict, 
and  Paris  presently  received  the  news  that  Blanqui, 
Flourens,  Levrault,  and  Cyrille  were  condemned  to 
death,  Doctor  Goupil  to  two  years'  imprisonment, 
and  Jules  Valles  to  six  months'.  The  others  were 
acquitted.  The  condemned  might  as  well  have  been 
acquitted  also,  as  they  were  all  in  hiding,  and  as  soon 
as  the  news  came  that  judgment  had  been  pro 
nounced  the  insurgent  National  Guard  welcomed 
them  with  open  arms.  Thiers  might  have  known 
this.  He  may  have  known  it.  Gustave  Flourens 
came  out  of  his  hole  and  showed  himself  publicly  in 
the  midst  of  the  Belleville  battalions  in  a  fantastic 


AN  HISTORICAL  INTERLUDE.  5  I 


costume  of  major-general  and  a  uniform  spangled 
with  gold  braid.  Regere,  Ranvier,  Jaclard,  and  Eudes 
followed  his  example.  Thiers  had  given  the  insur 
gents  their  officers. 

But  now  the  President  of  the  Council  and  the 
Ministers  had  become  seriously  frightened.  They 
sent  officers  of  the  artillery  from  the  Pepiniere  bar 
racks  to  Montmartre  to  parley. 

"  What  the  h — 1  do  you  want  ?  "  demanded  the 
sentinels. 

"  We  want  the  cannon,"  replied  these  innocent 
officers. 

"What  for?" 

"  To  distribute  them,  day  by  day,to  the  battalions." 

"  Have  you  the  countersign  ?  " 

"  No,  two  lines  from  the  Governor  of  Paris  will 
be  sufficient." 

"  Passez  au  large!  We  don't  know  any  Governor 
but  the  Central  Committee." 

The  officers  slunk  back  to  Monsieur  Thiers. 

"  This  is  very  embarrassing,"  observed  that  gentle 
man,  and  called  a  council  of  war. 

Montmartre  was  evidently  a  hotbed  of  conspiracy. 
One  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  National  Guards  and 
three  hundred  thousand  women  and  children  owed 
allegiance  to  the  Central  Committee,  which  brooded 
like  a  thunder  cloud  over  the  hill  of  cannon.  At 
tracted  by  the  disorder,  the  worst  elements,  the  very 
dregs  and  scum  of  Paris,  were  congregating  on  Mont 
martre  to  join  the  revolt.  Mobiles,  Franc-Tireurs, 
renegade  Line  soldiers,  all  came  and  clamored  for 
the  uniform  of  the  National  Guard  and  the  five 
francs  a  day.  Where  the  money  came  from  was  a 


52  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


mystery.  Some  spoke  of  Bismarck,  some  of  an 
Englishman  who  scattered  twenty  thousand  francs  in 
French  money  among  the  hordes. 

Rain  fell  in  torrents  and  the  famous  pieces  of  7 
and  the  mitrailleuses  began  to  rust.  To  amuse  the 
Guard,  the  Central  Committee  ordered  the  red  flag 
to  be  hoisted  on  the  Buttes  Chaumont,  and  down 
came  the  tricolor.  Paris  stared,  Monsieur  Thiers 
was  almost  galvanized  into  action.  Monsieur  Roger, 
chief  of  staff,  urged  him  to  attack  with  the  regular 
troops  and  what  remained  of  the  loyal  National 
Guard.  He  said  he  would  and — temporized. 

On  the  morning  of  the  i8th  of  March,  1871,  the 
people  of  Paris  read  this  placard  pasted  over  the 
dead  walls  of  the  unhappy  city. 


TO  THE  PARISIANS. 

For  some  time  past  certain  irresponsible  people  under 
the  pretext  of  resisting  the  Prussians,  who  are  no  longer 
within  your  walls,  have  constituted  themselves  masters  of 
a  portion  of  the  city  of  Paris.  They  collect  arms,  throw  up 
intrenchments,  mount  guard,  and  force  you  to  aid  them  by 
order  of  a  mythical  Committee  which  pretends  to  govern 
a  section  of  the  National  Guard.  This  is  defiance  to  the 
authority  of  the  legal  government  instituted  through  uni 
versal  suffrage.  These  men,  who  have  already  caused  so 
much  evil,  and  whom  you  yourselves  dispersed  on  the  3ist 
of  October,  under  pretence  of  defending  you  against  the 
Prussians,  who  are  no  longer  in  Paris,  have  mounted  and 
aimed  cannon  which,  if  fired,  would  annihilate  your 
houses,  your  children,  and  yourselves.  If  France  once 
believes  that  the  neccessary  accompaniment  of  the  Re 
public  is  disorder,  then  the  Republic  will  be  lost. 


AN  HISTORICAL  INTERLUDE.  53 


Monsieur  Thiers  wrote  well,  but  two  words,  con 
cise  and  unmistakable,  addressed  to  the  disaffected, 
would  have  answered  the  purpose  better. 

People  read  the  placard  and  wondered  what  was 
coming  next.  "It  is  easy,"  they  grumbled,  "to 
crush  those  insurgents.  One  regiment  of  the  Line 
and  horses  to  drag  away  the  cannon  would  do  it ; 
manifestos  and  placards  won't." 

This  was  true.  At  that  late  hour,  it  would  still 
have  been  easy  to  quell  the  insurrection.  The  insur 
gents  were  fatigued,  enervated,  confused.  Discipline 
was  almost  entirely  wanting.  Strife  had  arisen  in  the 
Central  Committee,  and  Karl  Marx,  the  founder  of 
the  International  Society  of  Workingmen,  from 
which  the  Central  Committee  took  orders,  was 
opposed  to  the  insurrection.  From  England,  where  he 
had  taken  refuge  after  his  condemnation  to  death 
at  Berlin,  he  launched  thunderbolts  of  invective 
against  the  revolt.  This  puzzled  and  discouraged 
the  National  Guard.  Thiers  believed  that  this 
famous  letter  of  Marx  would  end  the  trouble.  Mon 
sieur  Thiers  nourished  another  illusion.  He  imag 
ined  that  at  the  first  drum-roll  the  loyal  party  of 
Paris  would  spring  to  arms.  He  gave  his  orders. 
About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  drums  crashed 
out  in  the  streets  in  every  quarter  of  Paris.  It  was 
the  call  to  arms,  the  rappel.  Not  a  battalion  arose. 
At  three  o'clock  the  alarm  was  repeated.  Paris 
slept.  At  five  o'clock,  at  dawn,  the  third  and  last 
appeal  thundered  along  the  streets,  while  the  bugles 
rang  from  every  square.  People  were  astonished 
and  puzzled.  How  were  they  to  know  who  was 


54  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


beating  the  alarm  ?  After  their  last  response  to  the 
call,  General  Vinoy  had  threatened  them.  If  they 
responded  now,  would  he  not  carry  out  his  threats? 

Thiers,  pressing  his  nose  against  a  window  pane  in 
the  Ministry  of  Foreign  Affairs,  saw  his  aides-de 
camp  come  galloping  into  the  courtyard. 

"Well?"  he  said,  when  they  entered. 

"  Scarcely  two  hundred  National  Guards  have 
responded,"  was  their  report. 

"  Gentlemen,"  observed  Monsieur  Thiers,  with 
solemn  conviction,  to  the  members  of  his  Cabinet 
who  entered  at  that  moment,  "  this  affair  really 
begins  to  look  serious." 

Then  a  gamin  passed  along  under  the  window 
singing : 

"  C'est  Adolphe  Thiers,  qu'on  me  nomme, 
Sacre  nom  d'un  petit  bonhomme." 

A  great  stillness  fell  on  the  company.  A  staff 
officer  coughed  gently  behind  his  immaculately 
gloved  hand. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  sky  was  one 
dazzling  sheet  of  clustered  stars.  A  soft  wind  blew 
over  the  fortifications,  bringing  with  it  a  breath  of 
awakening  spring.  The  streets  were  deserted,  the 
houses  dark  and  silent.  Behind  the  Palais  de  1'In- 
dustrie,  a  small  camp-fire  smouldered  among  the 
trees  of  the  Park. 

At  half-past  two,  the  Avenue  Malakoff  and  the 
Place  de  1'Etoile  were  suddenly  filled  with  shadowy 
marching  legions.  At  the  same  hour,  masses  of 
silent  men  issued  from  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  and 


AN  HISTORICAL  INTERLUDE.  55 

swept  up  the  avenue  toward  the  Champs  filysees, 
and  from  the  Palais  de  1'Industrie  cavalry  appeared, 
followed  by  the  clink !  clink  !  of  moving  cannon. 
It  was  General  Lecomte's  brigade  under  orders  from 
Thiers  on  their  way  to  capture  the  cannon  on  the 
heights  of  Montmartre. 

Silently  the  troops  moved  down  the  deserted 
avenue,  lighted  only  by  the  stars,  swung  across  the 
Place  de  la  Concorde,  through  the  rue  de  la  Paix, 
and  then  separating  into  detachments  took  the  small 
winding  streets  which  lead  to  the  hill  of  Montmartre. 
The  cavalry  halted  in  the  Place  Pigalle  before  the 
fountain.  The  /6th  of  the  Line  occupied  the 
rue  Houdon  and  the  rue  1'Abbaye.  A  mitrail 
leuse  was  planted  to  sweep  the  rue  des  Martyrs. 
Then  General  Lecomte  sent  out  a  detachment  of 
police  to  seize  the  important  post  of  the  Moulin  de 
la  Galette,  which  guarded  the  cannon.  The  police 
crept  up  in  the  darkness,  until  one  of  them  stum 
bled  and  fell  with  his  sabre  and  rifle  clanking  on 
the  pavement. 

"  Qui  vive  ?  "  shouted  the  startled  insurgent  sentry. 

A  shot  answered  him  and  he  fell.  The  post  ran 
out  but  were  seized  and  disarmed.  The  guard  at 
No.  6  rue  des  Rosiers  were  captured  asleep  at  their 
posts,  and  the  troops  and  police  closed  in  about  the 
cannon.  At  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  General  Le 
comte  sent  word  to  General  d'Aurelle  de  Paladines 
that  the  cannon  were  taken,  and  sappers  were  de 
molishing  the  intrenchments,  and  he  begged  him  at 
once  to  bring  horses  to  remove  the  cannon  to  the 
city  below.  De  Paladines  came  himself,  and  wanted 


56  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

to  know  what  General  Lecomte  meant ;  Thiers  had 
given  him  no  orders  for  horses. 

"  Good  God  !  "  cried  General  Lecomte,  "  has  he 
neglected  to  send  the  horses?" 

D'Aurelle  de  Paladines  shouted  to  his  men  to 
move  the  cannon  by  hand,  and  the  soldiers  at  once 
began  to  drag  a  piece  of  7  through  the  mud  and 
down  the  steep,  slippery  street  to  the  foot  of  the 
hill.  A  great  crowd  of  men,  women,  and  children 
had  gathered  to  watch  them,  and  from  every  house 
National  Guards  ran  out,  rifle  in  hand,  crying : 
"  Thiers  has  betrayed  us !  A  coup  d'etat !  Le 
comte  is  robbing  us  of  our  cannon  !  " 

De  Paladines  sent  messenger  after  messenger  in 
hot  haste  to  Thiers,  begging  and  imploring  him  to 
send  horses  and  harness. 

"  It  will  take  my  men  a  day  to  move  seven  or  eight 
of  these  guns  by  hand,"  he  wrote.  "  Our  force  is 
small,  and  our  men  have  not  been  fed.  We  have  no 
provisions,  and  every  second  may  mean  life  or  death." 

At  eight  o'clock  the  equipages  and  horses  had  not 
arrived.  The  crowd  grew  more  menacing.  The 
regular  troops,  tired  and  hungry,  waited  for  their 
food  to  arrive.  General  Vinoy  came  up,  demanding 
the  reason  of  delay,  and  more  messengers  were  de 
spatched  to  Thiers. 

"  Treason  !  Robbery  !  Down  with  Vinoy  !  Down 
with  Paladines  !  Down  with  Thiers  !  Down  with  the 
cannon  thieves  !  "  yelled  the  crowd. 

"  Go  to  h — 1,"  replied  a  small  bugler  of  the  76th, 
and  the  crowd  set  up  a  shout  of  laughter. 

"  Sonny,"    cried  a  handsome   young   woman,   in 


AN  HISTORICAL   INTERLUDE.  57 


sabots  and  a  red  skirt,  "  do  you  want  this  cake  ?  " 
and  she  handed  the  bugler  a  bit  which  the  poor 
little  fellow  devoured  eagerly. 

"  Good  for  you  !  "  shouted  the  crowd.  "  Wait  ! 
You  are  our  brothers  !  If  you  are  hungry  we  will 
get  you  food  !  " 

In  an  instant  loaves  of  bread  and  bottles  of  wine 
were  brought  to  the  troops  who,  half-starved,  re 
ceived  them  with  delight.  In  vain  their  officers  in 
terfered  and  threatened.  "  We  are  hungry,  the 
National  Guard  give  us  food,  why  should  we  fire  on 
them  ?  They  are  our  brothers  !  " 

"  Vive  la  Ligne !  "  shouted  the  crowd. 

"Vive  la  Garde  Nationale!"  shouted  the  Regu 
lars.  The  soldiers  of  two  companies  of  the  76th, 
recently  recruited  from  Belleville,  began  to  frater 
nize  with  the  crowd.  An  officer  ordered  them 
back,  but  they  laughed  in  his  face.  A  throng  of 
women  and  children  pressed  around  the  artillerymen 
who  were  moving  the  cannon  away.  The  artillery 
men  resisted,  laughing,  but  the  crowd  hoisted  them  on 
their  shoulders,  crying  "  hurrah  for  the  artillery !  " 
and  others  dragged  the  cannon  back  to  the  intrench- 
ments.  A  company  of  foot  chasseurs  were  ordered 
to  fire  on  the  National  Guard.  The  rifles  fell  to  a 
level,  but  women  ran  out  and  covered  their  husbands 
and  brothers  with  their  own  bodies. 

"  Fire  !  "  shouted  the  captain  ;  not  a  shot  re 
sponded.  Other  troops  were  ordered  to  clear  away 
the  constantly  increasing  crowd,  but  they  refused. 
Their  officers  threatened  them  with  sabre  and  re 
volver,  but  they  stood  doggedly  inactive. 


58  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  The  National  Guard  has  fed  us.  We  will  not 
fire  on  women  !  "  they  replied. 

"  Hello  you  !  the  handsome  soldier  with  the  brown 
moustache  !  "  cried  a  pretty  girl  from  the  crowd. 
"  Will  you  stay  with  us  ?  " 

"  Will  you  give  me  something  to  eat  ?  "  said  the 
soldier,  seriously. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  food  and  drink." 

The  soldier  accepted  a  bit  of  bread  and  a  glass  of 
wine. 

"  To  the  health  of  the  Republic,"  he  replied,  and 
drained  the  glass. 

"  Vive  la  Republique  !  Vive  la  Ligne  !  "  cried 
the  people. 

The  officers  were  powerless.  Some  threw  down 
their  swords  and  walked  away  weeping  with  rage 
and  mortification.  Some  broke  their  swords  over 
their  knees  and  flung  them  into  the  street.  Sud 
denly  drums  were  heard  and  the  Federal  battalions, 
colors  flying,  bayonets  shining,  poured  into  the  street 
from  every  side.  General  Lecomte  shouted  to  them 
to  halt,  but  they  pressed  toward  the  regular  troops, 
followed  by  the  crowd.  In  vain  Lecomte  ordered 
his  troops  to  charge  and  clear  the  street.  The  com 
pany  which  was  guarding  the  "Tower  of  Solferino," 
a  cafe,  raised  their  rifles,  butt  upwards,  and  refused 
to  budge. 

"  Death  to  Vinoy  !  Death  to  Thiers  !  "  howled 
the  rabble  that  had  followed  the  Federal  battalions. 
A  crashing  volley  drowned  their  howls.  The  Na 
tional  Guards  had  fired  on  the  Line. 


AN  HISTORICAL  INTERLUDE.  59 


"  Tiens !  "  said  a  gamin,  pausing  before  the  body 
of  a  soldier  of  the  i/th  foot  chasseurs  which  lay  in 
a  pool  of  blood  beside  one  of  the  cannon,  "  here  is 
another  of  Monsieur  Thiers'  friends."  Then  he  went 

away  whistling : 

"  C'est  Adolphe  Thiers  qu'on  me  nomine, 
Sacre  nom  d'un  petit  bonhomme." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  THE  EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH," 

SO  began  the  day  of  the  famous  i8th  of  March. 
Landes,  lying  back  in  his  cab,  knew  noth 
ing  of  what  was  passing  on  Montmartre,  and 
kept  urging  the  fat  old  cabby  to  hurry.  The  re 
quest  was  received  with  stolid  indifference.  After 
a  while  the  cabman  jerked  his  head  half-way  reund 
and,  addressing  vacancy,  called  Heaven  to  witness 
that  he  was  doing  his  best.  This  broke  the  ice, 
and  Landes  stepped  over  the  cushions  in  front  and, 
without  further  ceremony,  took  a  seat  beside  the 
driver. 

"  It  is  pleasanter  up  here,"  he  observed., 

"  Now,  Monsieur,"  exclaimed  the  cabman,  horri 
fied,  "  you  know  this  is  against  regulations." 

"  I  don't  deny  it,"  replied  the  young  man,  light 
ing  a  cigarette  and  passing  another  to  the  driver. 

"  He  does  n't  deny  it !  "  cried  the  cabby,  raising 
both  hands  to  Heaven.  He  immediately  lowered 
his  hands,  however,  accepted  the  cigarette,  and 
whispered  confidentially:  "Monsieur  must  be  a 
student  of  the  Quarter?" 

"  That 's  exactly  what  Monsieur  is." 
.60 


THE  EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH"  6 1 


"All  wickedness  is  permitted  to  students." 

"  Shut  up,  and  look  out  where  you  're  driving," 
said  the  American,  pleasantly.  They  had  just 
escaped  overturning  a  young  man  who  stopped  in 
his  tracks  and  cursed  them  foully.  It  was  Weser, 
but  Landes  did  not  recognize  him  in  the  uniform  of 
a  National  Guard.  The  cabman,  utterly  unable  to 
forego  such  an  opportunity  for  invective,  drew  rein 
to  reply.  Landes  took  his  reins  away  and  sent  the 
whip  whistling  about  the  horse's  ears. 

"  Pas  de  blague,"  he  said.  "  Depechez  vous  ! 
Allons  !  en  route  !  " 

In  vain  the  cabby  shouted  for  assistance,  and 
besought  help  from  a  lounging  Line  soldier.  He 
cried  "  Police  !  "  and  "  Au  secours  !  "  but  the  passers- 
by  only  laughed.  They  rattled  over  the  Pont-au- 
Change  and  passed  the  Louvre,  where  Landes,  tired 
of  his  amusement,  restored  the  driver  his  reins  and 
whip  with  a  threat  for  the  future  if  he  lingered  by 
the  way.  In  the  Place  du  Carrousel,  a  battalion  of 
the  Line  stood  at  ease  before  the  Pavilion  de  Rohan, 
but  allowed  them  to  pass  without  question. 

The  cabman  had  recovered  his  spirits  and  was 
chanting  merrily  as  they  entered  the  rue  des 
Martyrs. 

"  Monsieur  is  a  gay  monsieur,"  he  chuckled,  wink 
ing  pleasantly  at  Landes. 

"  Thank  you,  my  friend,  my  spirits  are  unim 
paired." 

"  I  also  am  gay  !  "  caroled  the  cabby.    "  I  love " 

His  voice  was  lost  in  the  ringing  report  of  a  rifle, 
and  he  tumbled  clean  out  of  his  seat  to  the  pave- 


62  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


ment.  The  horse  reared,  trembled,  and  dashed  up 
the  street  at  full  speed.  Landes  seized  the  fallen 
reins  and  sawed  away  at  his  mouth.  He  heard 
people  shouting,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  passers-by 
scattering  in  all  directions,  then  there  was  an 
other  shot,  and  he  saw  Pagot,  in  the  uniform  of  a 
National  Guard,  lowering  a  smoking  rifle  from  his 
shoulder.  Before  he  had  time  to  think,  he  was 
blocks  away,  the  terrified  horse  galloping  in  the 
direction  of  the  rue  Blanche.  A  policeman  ran  into 
the  street  and  tried  to  seize  the  horse's  head,  but 
was  struck  and  hurled  out  of  the  way.  Then  they 
bore  down  upon  a  cordon  of  troops  who  shouted 
and  brought  their  bayonets  to  a  level,  but  the  horse 
plunged  through  these  and,  swerving  into  the  gutter, 
crashed  against  a  lamp-post  and  sank  in  a  quivering 
heap.  Landes  kept  right  on  over  the  horse's  head 
and  sat  up  several  paces  farther  along,  frightened, 
astonished,  but  unhurt. 

"  What  did  you  do  that  for  ?  "  demanded  an  offi 
cer  running  up  and  frowning  at  the  American. 

"  Now  you  don't  suppose  I  did  it  for  amuse 
ment  ?  "  retorted  Philip,  angrily.  He  heard  a  burst 
of  laughter  near  him,  and  turning  saw  a  tall  artillery 
officer  sitting  on  his  horse  and  regarding  him  with 
amusement.  The  laughter  was  infectious,  and  Philip 
smiled  and  picked  himself  up.  He  had  recognized 
the  tall  artilleryman  who  had  paid  him  the  pretty 
compliment  in  the  Cafe  Cardinal,  in  the  quarrel  with 
Rigault  and  Sarre. 

"  Monsieur  Landes,  pray  pardon  me.  I  laughed 
at  your  retort,  not  at  you,"  said  the  officer,  gravely. 


"THE  EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH."  63 


"  I  don't  mind,"  cried  Landes,  trying  to  find  some 
broken  bones,  and  not  finding  any  he  walked  over 
to  the  horse. 

"  Poor  thing,"  he  said,  "  somebody  must  shoot  it." 

A  soldier  stepped  forward  and  gave  the  wretched 
brute  its  coup-de-grace.  Landes,  finding  that  his 
own  injuries  were  confined  to  the  knees  of  his 
trousers,  picked  up  his  cane  and  hat  and  looked 
around. 

The  artillery  officer  had  dismounted  and  now  came 
up  to  him.  "  I  see,  Monsieur,  that  you  are  unin 
jured.  Permit  me  to  offer  you  my  felicitations  and 
my  services." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  Landes.  "  I  don't  ex 
actly  know  what  to  do.  I  ought  to  go  down  to  the 
rue  Blanche  and  point  out  the  murderer  of  my 
cabman,  but  I  must  go  to  the  Place  Pigalle." 

The  lieutenant  in  charge  of  the  infantry  cordon 
pricked  up  his  ears. 

"  Murder?  "  he  asked.  Then  Landes  told  the  two 
officers  his  story. 

"  I  am  dazed  yet,  it  happened  so  suddenly,"  he 
finished, — "  and  he  was  in  the  uniform  of  a  National 
Guard,  but  1  know  him,  Tribert." 

"  In  the  uniform  of  a  National  Guard,  you  say?  " 

"Yes,  with  a  captain's  galons." 

"  Was  there  any  excitement  in  the  street  before 
that  ?  " 

"  None  that  I  observed.  People  were  walking 
about  just  as  usual."  After  a  pause  he  added  :  "  I 
notice  that  the  streets  here  are  empty  except  for 
the  military." 


64  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  We  have  just  captured  the  cannon  at  Montmar- 
tre !  "  said  the  artillery  officer.  "  If  you  are  going 
to  the  Place  Pigalle,  permit  me  to  offer  you  my 
escort." 

"  Thank  you,  but  that  will  not  be  necessary." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  will  be,"  smiled  the  officer.  "  You 
cannot  get  into  the  Place  Pigalle  unless  a  staff  officer 
goes  with  you." 

"  Then  you  are  very  kind,  and  I  accept  most 
gratefully." 

The  lieutenant  of  the  cordon  saluted  them  with 
great  punctiliousness.  "  Mon  capitaine,"  he  said, 
"  I  will  send  a  corporal  and  four  men  to  the  rue 
Blanche.  We  will  get  this  Tribert  if  he  is  within 
our  zone." 

"  My  name  is  Alain  de  Carette,"  said  the  artillery 
officer,  turning  to  Landes.  "  I  know  that  yours  is 
Philip  Landes,  because  you  said  so  in  the  Cafe  Car 
dinal.  I  simply  require  your  word  of  honor  that  you 
will  report  to  me  as  witness  against  this  Tribert 
when  he  is  caught." 

"  You  have  my  word  of  honor,  mon  capitaine," 
said  Landes. 

"  It  is  sufficient."  Then  he  threw  his  bridle  to  a 
fantassin,  saying,  "  take  the  horse  to  the  War  Min 
istry,  I  will  go  on  foot " ;  and  not  heeding  the 
polite  protests  of  Landes,  took  his  arm  and  drew 
him  along  the  steeply  ascending  hill.  "  I  seldom 
enjoy  the  luxury  of  walking,"  he  laughed. 

"  You  are  very  good  indeed,"  replied  Landes, 
warmly. 

"  I  like  Americans,"  said  the  officer.  "  Here  is 
the  Place  Pigalle. 


"THE  EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH."  6$ 


A  squadron  of  cavalry  was  massed  before  the 
fountain  in  the  centre  of  the  square,  and  vedettes 
stood  at  every  corner.  The  Boulevard  beyond  was 
occupied  by  a  detachment  of  gendarmes  on  foot  and 
a  few  policemen.  There  appeared  to  be  no  civilians 
in  the  streets.  The  houses  were  silent  and  the  shut 
ters  closed. 

They  advanced  toward  the  mounted  sentry  near 
est  them.  He  saluted  de  Carette's  uniform,  and 
they  passed  across  the  square  toward  the  fountain 
where  a  group  of  officers  had  dismounted  and  were 
examining  a  plan  which  a  young  fellow  of  the  Rifle 
battalion  had  chalked  on  the  pavement.  De  Carette 
saluted  and  Landes  raised  his  hat. 

"Tiens!  C'est  Alain!"  cried  the  senior  officer 
cordially,  and  the  others  looked  up  with  eager  greet 
ings.  Landes  was  presented  and  permitted  at  once 
to  pass  the  lines. 

"  Monsieur  Landes  wishes  to  visit  the  Hotel 
Ferret,"  said  de  Carette. 

"  It  is  empty.  The  last  person  to  leave  was  the 
landlord,"  said  one  of  the  officers.  "  There  he  is 
now,"  he  continued,  pointing  to  a  cafe  on  the  corner, 
"  that  man  looking  out  of  the  window." 

"  But  the  guests  ?  "  cried  Landes,  alarmed. 

"  Two  of  them  rode  away  just  as  we  came  into  the 
square  this  morning.  Don't  you  remember?"  turn 
ing  to  another,  who  nodded  in  reply  : 

"  The  pretty  girl  and  her  maid  ?  Yes,  I  remem 
ber  ;  the  landlord,  Ferret,  was  with  them." 

"  Send  a  trooper  for  the  landlord,"  said  de  Carette ; 
"  wait  a  moment,  Mr.  Landes,  we  will  have  Monsieur 
Ferret  over  here." 


66  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


But  Philip  could  not  wait,  and  with  his  heart  beat 
ing  anxiously  he  hurried  across  the  street  to  the 
caf6.  The  curtains  were  lowered,  the  cafe  was 
almost  empty.  There  was  only  a  young  man  writ 
ing  at  a  desk  and  a  waiter  idling  aimlessly  about. 
When  Philip  entered,  the  young  man  at  the  desk 
glanced  up,  and  immediately  dropped  his  head  again. 
The  light  was  uncertain,  his  motion  was  so  quick 
that  Philip  could  not  be  sure,  and  yet  there  was 
something  familiar  about  his  air. 

"  Is  Monsieur  Perret  here?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  began  the  waiter, — "  no,  Mon 
sieur,"  he  stammered.  The  man  at  the  desk  had 
turned  his  back  to  Landes  and  was  looking  at  the 
waiter.  All  Landes  could  see  of  him  now  was  the 
top  of  a  curly  black  head  over  the  desk. 

"  Monsieur  Perret  must  be  here.  I  saw  him  from 
the  square,"  said  Philip.  The  waiter  stole  a  glance 
at  the  man  behind  the  desk,  and  shook  his  head. 

"Berry? — oh,  Perret.  I  understood  Monsieur  to 
say  Berry.  No,  Monsieur  Perret  is  not  here,"  and 
picking  up  a  towel  he  began  to  polish  the  tops  of 
the  tables. 

"  Are  there  any  guests  in  the  Hotel  Perret  ?  "  de 
manded  Landes  angrily. 

"  No,"  said  the  waiter  with  alacrity,  seeming  to 
feel  himself  on  certain  ground,  "  Monsieur  Perret 
drove  the  last  two  away  in  his  carriage —  "  the  legs 
of  the  chair  in  which  the  man  at  the  desk  was  sitting 
scraped  on  the  floor,  and  the  waiter  stopped  short. 

"  Was  it  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  and  her  maid 
who  went  this  morning?  " 


"THE  EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH"  6/ 

"  Yes — no."  The  waiter  had  stepped  close  to 
the  man  at  the  desk,  and  Landes  heard  a  low  mur 
mur. 

"  No,  it  was  not  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac.  Ma 
demoiselle  de  Brassac  and  her  maid  left  last  week," 
said  the  waiter,  glibly. 

"  You  lie  !  "  said  Landes,  in  a  low  voice,  stepping 
toward  the  man  at  the  desk. 

"  Mais,  Monsieur,"  cried  the  waiter,  eagerly,  "  he 
ought  to  know ;  he  is  the  son  of  Monsieur  Ferret." 
At  the  same  moment,  Philip  sprang  forward. 

"  Imbecile  !  "  said  the  man  at  the  desk  through  his 
teeth,  and  striking  the  waiter  out  of  the  way,  he  slid 
out  of  his  chair  and  slipped  through  a  door  just  be 
hind,  but  not  so  quickly  as  to  prevent  Landes,  who 
rushed  forward  at  the  same  moment,  from  getting  a 
view  of  his  face.  It  was  Georgias,  the  Greek.  Philip 
tried  the  handle  of  the  door ;  it  would  not  open. 
Then  he  took  a  small  table  and  used  it  as  a  batter 
ing  ram.  He  dashed  out  the  panels,  one  by  one, 
until  the  frame  fell  inward  and  he  sprang  through 
into  a  courtyard  from  which  there  was  an  opening 
on  the  next  street.  Philip  looked  up  and  down  the 
street ;  it  was  quite  empty,  and  he  ran  back  into  the 
cafe.  The  waiter  had  disappeared.  Landes  searched 
the  cafe,  found  it  entirely  deserted,  returned  to  the 
desk  where  Georgias  had  been  writing,  and  noticed 
there  an  unfinished  letter,  beginning,  "  Mon  cher 
Raoul."  This  he  thrust  into  his  pocket  along  with 
a  revolver  which  he  found  in  a  top  drawer,  then  he 
began  a  rapid  examination  of  the  cafe  again.  He 
found  a  staircase  at  last,  climbed  it,  and  hurried 


68  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


through  several  floors  of  empty  apartments.  The 
doors  were  all  open,  the  floors  were  bare,  not  a 
stick  of  furniture  was  visible.  He  hurried  back  to 
the  caf6,  and  going  to  the  big  window  pulled  open 
the  shutters  and  looked  across  the  square.  The 
cavalry  had  mounted  and  were  moving,  with  some 
appearance  of  excitement,  toward  the  Boulevard. 

"  Captain  de  Carette  !  "  he  shouted,  but  the  tramp 
ing  of  the  moving  squadron  drowned  his  voice,  and 
the  artillery  officer  did  not  hear.  Philip  bitterly  re 
gretted  the  time  he  had  lost  in  searching  alone  by 
himself.  He  went  out  and  crossed  to  the  Hotel 
Ferret.  There  his  furious  bell-calls  and  raps  were 
unanswered.  A  window  faced  the  street  in  a  recess 
just  beside  the  door.  He  took  out  the  revolver, 
broke  the  glass  with  the  butt  of  it,  and  climbed 
through.  The  house  was  perfectly  dark.  He 
stumbled  over  chairs  and  tables  toward  a  faint  ray 
of  light  which  filtered  through  a  closely  curtained 
window,  tore  back  the  curtains,  threw  open  the 
window,  and  looked  around.  He  was  in  the  office 
of  a  small,  but  handsome  hotel,  furnished  in  taste, 
the  walls  and  ceiling  panelled  in  solid  oak.  Through 
a  glass  door  he  saw  a  vestibule,  and  the  lower  steps 
of  a  staircase.  He  picked  a  candle  out  of  the  con 
cierge's  letter-safe,  lighted  it,  and  unhooking  every 
key  from  the  key  rack,  opened  the  glass  door  and 
mounted  the  stairs.  On  the  first  landing  he  stopped 
and  selected  two  keys  whose  numbers  corresponded 
with  the  numbers  on  the  doors.  The  keys  fitted, 
and  he  entered  without  trouble.  The  apartments 
were  empty.  He  threw  the  keys  away,  and  mounted 


"THE  EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH."  69 


the  steps  of  the  second  floor.  Here  there  was  but 
one  apartment.  He  found  the  key  and  entered,  but 
before  he  had  taken  one  step  into  the  darkened 
room,  the  candle  was  struck  from  his  hand,  and 
something  sprang  by  him.  How  he  managed  to 
get  to  the  window  and  open  it  he  could  not  have 
told,  but  at  last  the  sunlight  broke  into  the  room  and 
he  turned  to  face  whatever  awaited  him.  It  was  a 
large  yellow  cat  which  glared  at  him,  with  enormous 
eyes,  from  a  niche  over  the  door.  Her  spine  was 
arched,  her  tail  exaggerated.  The  candle  lay  on  the 
floor  below.  Philip  burst  into  a  nervous  laugh.  At 
the  sound  of  his  voice  in  the  empty  apartment  there 
came  a  whine  from  the  bed.  Philip  went  there 
and  saw  a  small  setter  puppy  curled  up  on  the 
lace  counterpane,  trembling  and  making  violent 
overtures  of  conciliation.  He  called  the  little  crea 
ture,  and  it  came  slowly  toward  him  with  a 
coquetry  which  is  understood  to  perfection  by 
puppies,  and  finally  rolled  over  on  its  back  under 
Landes'  feet,  both  forepaws  raised  beseechingly. 
Philip  bent  and  took  it  in  his  arms.  The  cat,  see 
ing  this,  relaxed  the  rigidity  of  her  tail,  transformed 
her  back  from  an  arc-de-triomphe  into  its  normal 
curves,  and  licked  her  singed  whiskers.  Landes,  with 
the  puppy  in  his  arms,  began  a  cautious  tour  of  the 
apartment.  On  the  bed  he  noticed  a  valise,  half 
packed.  It  contained  an  officer's  undress  jacket  and 
some  underwear.  Beyond  it,  on  the  floor,  lay  a  rid 
ing  crop,  boots,  spurs,  and  a  dress  sword  in  its  case. 
He  passed  into  the  next  room  and  found  that  it  had 
been  recently  occupied,  for  the  gas  was  burning  low 


7O  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


and  toilet  articles  lay  scattered  over  the  tables.  A 
curtain  hung  across  the  door  at  the  farther  end.  A 
sudden  draft  stirred  this  curtain  and  a  subtle  odor 
rilled  the  room.  He  recognized  chloroform  !  In  an 
instant  he  drew  the  curtain  and  threw  open  the  door. 
On  the  floor  lay  a  woman,  tied  and  gagged. 

The  puppy,  when  Landes  dropped  him,  bounded 
toward  the  woman  but  halted  suddenly  and  began 
circling  around  her,  barking.  Landes  stood,  not  know 
ing  what  to  do  ;  the  puppy  retreated  between  his  legs. 
The  shades  were  partly  raised,  but  the  windows  were 
closed  and  the  stench  of  chloroform  made  him  dizzy. 
He  flung  open  the  window,  went  to  the  woman,  and 
unloosened  the  towel  about  her  face.  A  sponge  fell 
from  her  lips  and  the  smell  of  chloroform  became 
almost  unbearable.  Holding  his  breath,  he  cut  the 
twine  that  bound  her  hands  and  feet  and  drew  her 
out  on  to  a  balcony,  which  was  under  the  long  French 
window.  Sunlight  fell  across  her  face  and  gilded  her 
brown  hair,  gathered  neatly  in  a  cap  such  as  is  worn 
by  ladies'  maids.  She  was  dressed  as  if  ready  to  go 
out,  for  she  wore  gloves  and  a  thick  cloth  jacket.  In 
one  hand  she  held,  tightly  clenched,  the  handle  of  a 
reticule,  which  had  evidently  been  cut  away  with  a 
knife ;  the  other  hand  was  open  and  limp  and  the 
deadly  pallor  of  her  face  showed  that  help  had  prob 
ably  come  too  late.  Leaning  over  the  railing  of  the 
balcony  which  looked  into  the  square,  in  search  of 
help,  he  saw  some  hussars  watering  their  horses  at 
the  fountain.  He  shouted  to  them ;  they  heard, 
mounted,  and  galloped  into  the  street  directly  under 
the  balcony. 


"THE  EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH."  /I 


"  Is  there  a  surgeon  there  ?  "  he  called  down. 

"  No,"  shouted  back  the  lieutenant  in  charge, 
"what 's  up?' 

"Get  a  surgeon,  it  's  life  or  death." 

"  I  understand  surgery,"  cried  a  sub-officer,  after  a 
brief  consultation  v/ith  his  superior. 

"  Then  get  in  that  broken  window  and  come  up 
here  quick.  Send  for  an  ambulance  and  a  surgeon." 

A  hussar  struck  spurs  into  his  horse  and  rode  away 
toward  the  Boulevard,  and  the  rest  of  the  troop,  after 
watching  the  sub-officer  scramble  in  at  the  window, 
went  back  to  the  fountain  and  dismounted.  The 
sub-officer  came  springing  up  the  stairs,  looked 
sharply  at  Landes,  saluted  mechanically,  and  sat 
down  on  the  balcony  beside  the  woman. 

"Chloroform!      Oh!" 

Landes  offered  his  help  but  it  was  declined,  and  he 
stepped  back  into  the  room.  It  was  a  dressing-room. 
Beyond,  at  the  end  of  a  short  hall,  the  door  of  a  bed 
room  stood  partly  open.  He  crossed  and  looked  in, 
lighted  a  match  and  held  it  above  his  head,  then 
groped  his  way  to  the  window  and  threw  it  wide 
open.  The  room  was  empty ;  the  odor  of  chloro 
form  pervaded  everything,  but  the  breeze  from  the 
open  window  soon  drove  that  away.  As  he  turned 
back  into  the  room,  the  first  thing  he  saw  was  the 
photograph  of  a  French  officer,  in  the  uniform  of  the 
Hussars  of  the  Guard.  The  officer  was  the  Count 
de  Brassac,  and  beneath,  in  the  quaint,  precise  writ 
ing  of  a  French  school-girl,  he  read,  "  My  darling 
father,  August  1st,  1869." 

For  the  first  time  he  distinctly  recalled  the  face 


72  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


of  Jeanne  de  Brassac.  Until  now  he  had  only- 
remembered  her  vaguely  as  a  pretty,  graceful 
school-girl,  sister  of  his  comrade,  Victor.  Now, 
with  a  shock,  memory  awakened,  and  every  inci 
dent  of  that  Christmas  week  was  recalled.  The 
drawing-room  and  the  warm  firelight,  the  carv 
ing  on  the  chairs,  the  boyish  gestures  of  Victor, 
and — Jeanne,  the  violet  eyes,  the  white  throat,  the 
shape  of  her  hand  as  it  lay  on  her  mother's  shoulder. 
He  recollected  every  detail  of  her  dress  ;  he  recalled 
her  voice  as  she  answered  her  father  and  went  to  the 
piano  to  sing  his  favorite  song  of  "  Carcassonne." 
With  a  great  effort  he  collected  his  thoughts  and 
concentrated  them  on  the  present.  She  was  gone 
and  her  maid  had  been  chloroformed.  Why  ?  The 
diamonds  !  It  was  for  the  diamonds  that  they  had 
murdered  her  father.  Had  they  also  murdered  her  ? 
He  could  hear  the  officer  in  the  next  room  working 
over  the  inanimate  body  of  the  servant,  who  still 
clutched  in  her  stiffened  hand  the  fragment  of  a 
reticule.  Had  the  diamonds  been  in  that  ?  He  sat 
miserably  trying  to  find  some  clue  to  the  tragedy, 
his  head  in  his  hands,  his  heart  throbbing  painfully, 
but  the  face  of  Jeanne  de  Brassac  rose  incessantly 
before  his  eyes,  and  his  thoughts  would  wander 
back  to  the  firelight  and  the  sweet  voice  that  sang 
"  I  never  shall  see  Carcassonne."  He  heard  the  sub- 
officer  leave  the  room  and  descend  the  stairs  and 
return  almost  immediately  with  several  others,  who 
moved  about  with  a  banging  of  sabres  and  jingle  of 
spurs  on  the  tiled  floor.  The  puppy  and  the  cat, 
who  had  taken  refuge  in  this  quiet  room  from  the 


"THE  EIGHTEENTH   OF  MARCH"  73 


confusion  in  the  other,  suddenly  began  a  complicated 
game  of  romps.  Philip  felt  a  tenderness  for  these 
creatures,  her  pets,  and  he  called  them  both  to  him. 
The  cat  at  first  stood  on  the  defensive,  but  he  soon 
had  her  lying  on  the  bed  asleep.  He  placed  the 
puppy  beside  her,  and  going  to  the  door  looked 
into  the  next  room.  The  woman  was  being  carried 
toward  the  stairs  on  a  stretcher.  A  group  of  hus 
sars  and  officers  stood  looking  on. 

"  Is  she  alive  ?  "  asked  Philip. 

"  At  present,"  replied  a  gendarme,  shortly. 

"  Monsieur,  I  am  sorry,"  said  the  sub-officer,  "  but 
you  must  consider  yourself  my  prisoner." 

"  Prisoner  !  " 

"  I  am  sorry,"  repeated  the  sub-officer. 

Through  the  window  Landes  saw  his  acquaintance 
of  the  morning,  de  Carette,  standing  on  the  balcony, 
and  reached  him  in  two  strides. 

"  What  ?  "  cried  de  Carette,  "  nonsense,"  and  went 
back  into  the  room  with  his  arm  locked  in  the  Ameri 
can's.  "  I  am  responsible  for  this  gentleman, 
Faure,"  he  said  to  the  sub-lieutenant,  and  passed 
with  Landes  into  the  bedroom. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  look  like  a  corpse  ;  this 
chloroform  is  nasty  stuff." 

"  It  is  n't  the  chloroform,"  replied  Philip. 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  the  other,  coolly.  "  Do  you 
want  to  confide  in  me?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Philip,  and  told  him  all,  ending  by 
showing  him  the  unfinished  letter  left  by  Georgias 
in  the  cafe.  "  It  's  terrible,"  he  cried,  pacing  the 
room  in  deep  excitement. 


74  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  I  fear  there  can  be  but  one  meaning  to  that 
letter,"  said  de  Carette. 

Philip  stopped  in  his  aimless  walk  and  approached 
the  bed.  The  Frenchman  had  been  absently  strok 
ing  the  cat's  yellow  fur,  while  he  listened,  the  puppy 
jealously  trying  to  crowd  his  hand  away. 

"  And  these  ?  They  must  be  her  pets,  I  suppose," 
said  Philip.  His  voice  was  unsteady.  The  French 
man  went  to  the  door  and  gave  an  order.  Then  he 
came  back  and  laid  a  hand  on  Philip's  shoulder,  say 
ing,  "  we  will  find  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac.  They 
dare  not  harm  her." 

"  They  killed  her  father." 

De  Carette's  steel-blue  eyes  glittered.  "  A  brave 
officer, — an  old  man  ;  cowards  !  " 

A  trooper  came  in  carrying  a  large  covered  basket. 
De  Carette  gently  lifted  the  cat  and  the  puppy  into  it. 

"  We  will  take  care  of  her  pets  until  we  have 
found  her,"  he  said.  "  May  I  send  them  to  your 
address,  Monsieur  ?  " 

"  You  are  very  good,"  said  Landes,  warmly. 

"  Take  them  carefully,"  ordered  the  Captain. 
The  trooper  saluted.  The  cat  set  up  a  desolate 
squall,  the  puppy  whined  anxiously,  the  trooper 
saluted  once  more  with  a  grave  face  and  marched 
out,  the  basket  dangling  from  his  long  arm,  ear- 
piercing  sounds  and  a  violent  agitation  of  the  basket 
cover  contrasting  with  his  composure.  Standing  in 
the  balcony  and  looking  over,  they  saw  him  enter  a 
cab  driven  by  a  policeman  and  rattle  away.  A 
military  ambulance  also  was  slowly  moving  toward 
the  hospital. 


"THE  EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH."  75 


"  Will  the  girl  live  ?  "  asked  Landes. 

"  She  is  dead,"  replied  de  Carette. 

"  Then  Heaven  only  knows  how  we  can  find  out 
anything  about  this  accursed  business. —  Hark! 
What  's  that?" 

''It's  the  explosion  of  a  mitrailleuse!  They  are 
fighting  on  Montmartre ! "  exclaimed  the  artillery 
officer.  At  the  same  moment  a  bugle  sounded  in  the 
square  below,  the  hussars  mounted  and  trotted 
toward  the  Boulevard.  De  Carette  unslung  his  field 
glasses. 

"  Look  there !  Look  at  the  Line  soldiers  run 
ning  !  "  said  Philip,  anxiously. 

The  Boulevard  which  formed  the  northern  side  of 
the  square,  was  suddenly  filled  with  red-legged  infan 
try  in  the  wildest  disorder.  A  lieutenant  of  hussars 
rode  into  their  midst  shouting  and  gesticulating,  his 
sword  in  one  hand,  his  revolver  in  the  other. 

"Is  it  possible  that  they  are  running  away?" 
observed  de  Carette,  in  disgust. 

At  a  signal  from  the  lieutenant,  the  hussars 
formed  in  two  lines  across  the  Boulevard  ;  the  panic- 
stricken  fantassins  darted  between  their  horses  and 
began  rallying  behind  the  cavalry.  Close  on  their 
heels  followed  another  demoralized  mob  of  infantry 
in  dark  blue  and  green. 

"The  Rifles  are  running  too!  What  's  got  into 
them  ?  "  muttered  the  Captain.  "  See  there  !  Look ! 
Here  comes  a  general  and  his  staff!  It  can't  be 
General  Lecomte  !  It  can't  be  !  What  in  h — 1  are 
they  running  away  for?  " 

The  clear  song  of  the  bugles  floated  up  from  the 


7°  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

Boulevard  below,  and  through  the  tumult  and  cries, 
a  calm,  steady  voice  rang  out : 

"  Draw  sabres !  trot !  gallop  !  charge  ! !  " 

The  hussars  were  off  like  the  wind,  and  in  a 
moment  came  the  crash  of  the  collision. 

"  They  've  struck  the  mob,"  said  Captain  de  Ca 
rette,  briskly,  "I'm  going!  Good-bye,  my  friend." 

"  I  'm  going  with  you  !  "  said  Landes,  following  him 
down  the  stairs  two  at  a  time. 

"  Vinoy  is  my  chief.  I  Ve  got  to  join  him,  but  if 
I  were  you  I  would  n't  get  into  that  mob,  Monsieur 
Landes,"  said  the  Captain  as  they  reached  the  street 
and  started  across  the  square. 

"  Oh,  do  you  see  ?  Do  you  see  ?  "  groaned  Philip  ; 
"  the  hussars  have  been  cut  to  pieces  !  Here  comes 
what 's  left  of  them  !  " 

There  was  little  left  of  them.  The  remains  of  the 
squadron  came  tearing  back,  horses  foam-covered 
and  bloody,  troopers  in  tatters  and  reeling  in  their 
saddles.  They  wheeled  past  the  fountain  and  bore 
down  on  Landes  and  de  Carette.  The  lieutenant 
was  there  with  a  crimson  gash  across  his  face,  and 
one  arm  dangling  helplessly  in  his  sky-blue  jacket. 
He  pulled  up  with  his  uninjured  hand  as  he  came 
abreast  of  de  Carette  and  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"  Hell  has  just  been  let  loose,"  he  said,  "  and  is 
coming  this  way." 

"  What 's  the  trouble,  Jacques?  "asked  the  Captain, 
quietly. 

"  The  Line  troops  have  gone  over  to  the  National 

Guard  !  d n  them !  Their  treachery  has  lost  us 

the  cannon.  Just  fix  this  arm,  will  you  ?"  He  leaned 


"THE   EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH." 


from  his  saddle,  and  de  Carette  took  his  handker 
chief  and  passed  it  under  the  shattered  arm. 

"Then  the  Line  has  betrayed  us?"  he  said 
huskily. 

"  Yes,  the  88th.  They  are  righting  like  devils, 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  canaille !  We  just 
struck  them  !  Thanks,  that 's  all  right,  until  I  can  get 
to  a  surgeon.  You  'd  better  mount  behind  me  and 
get  out  of  this." 

"  Where  is  the  general?" 

"  Running  to  keep  warm.  Look  over  there. 
There  they  come,  the  d d  treacherous  black 
guards  !  " 

At  that  instant  the  Boulevard  across  the  square 
was  swept  by  the  mob.  National  Guards,  renegade 
Line  soldiers,  and  the  fine  fleiir  of  that  hotbed  of 
anarchy,  Montmartre,  passed  like  a  seething  tempest 
through  the  street,  howling,  shrieking,  rolling  along 
in  one  turbulent,  irresistible  torrent.  The  few  loyal 
Line  soldiers  and  the  remnants  of  the  Rifle  battalion 
went  down  beneath  it.  Landes  saw  a  little  group 
of  police  and  foot  gendarmes  stem  the  tide  for  a 
second  or  two,  then  break  and  run  toward  the  foun 
tain  followed  by  a  swarm  of  National  Guards. 

"  Miserable  ragamuffins  !  "  cried  the  lieutenant  of 
hussars,  "  I  've  a  mind  to  tickle  their  rouflaquettes 
again  !  " 

"  Ride  off,  Jacques  !  Spare  your  men  !  It  's  no 
use  !  "  said  de  Carette,  drawing  his  revolver.  "  Come ! 
Give  this  gentleman  one  stirrup  and  me  the  other. 
We  've  got  to  go  now  or  not  at  all !  Gallop  !  " 

The  lieutenant   appeared   not  to  hear  him.     His 


78  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


eyes  sparkled,  and  he  began  to  curse  softly  to  him 
self.  Suddenly  with  a  furious  gesture  he  wheeled 
his  horse. 

"  Forward  !  Forward  !  39th  Hussars  !  "  he  shouted 
to  the  broken  fragment  of  his  squadron,  "trot! 
gallop  !  charge  !  "  Away  plunged  the  handful  of 
troopers,  charging  madly  into  the  tumult,  and  Landes 
heard  the  lieutenant's  voice  above  the  terrible  din  : 
"  Down  with  the  canaille !  Now,  my  children,  all 
together !  for  France  !  " 

The  shock  checked  the  rush  for  an  instant.  The 
sabres  of  the  little  troop  rose  and  fell  like  flashes  of 
lightning ;  then  the  masses  closed  in  on  them.  De 
Carette  seized  Landes  by  the  wrist,  and  dragged 
him  through  the  open  door  of  the  Hotel  Ferret,  into 
the  courtyard  and  to  the  street  beyond. 

The  street  was  deserted,  and  they  walked  along 
for  some  distance  without  speaking.  The  Captain 
returned  his  revolver  to  its  place  and  unaffectedly 
wiped  away  the  tears  which  had  sprung  to  his  eyes. 

"  Jacques  was  crazy  !  "  he  said  at  last.  "  A  brave 
man,  but  a  bad  soldier.  That  charge  was  criminal  ! 
We  need  all  the  loyal  men  we  have  left." 

"  Of  course  he  's  dead,"  said  Landes. 

"And  all  his  troop.     It  was  criminal,  criminal !  " 

Coming  again  to  the  outer  Boulevard  they  stopped 
short.  The  sidewalks  were  crowded  with  people 
and  with  soldiers  of  the  National  Guard,  marching 
along  in  groups  singing  the  Marseillaise,  but  no  dis 
order  was  visible.  Philip  followed  de  Carette  across 
the  street  to  a  long  line  of  wooden  huts  which  had 
been  put  up  as  temporary  shelter  for  the  troops 


"THE   EIGHTEENTH   OF  MARCH."  79 


during  the  siege.  The  Captain  stepped  behind  one 
of  them,  and  turning  to  his  companion  said  : 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  with  you,"  answered  Philip,  "  that  is, 
if  I  may." 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  de  Carette,  sharply. 

Landes  drew  back. 

"  I  mean,"  said  the  other  quickly,  "on  account  of 
my  uniform.  It  is  a  little — only  a  little,  you 
know " 

"  Unsafe?" 

"Yes." 

"  Unsafe  for  you  ?     You  are  in  danger?  " 

The  Captain  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Looking 
Philip  pleasantly  in  the  eyes,  he  said :  "  Come, 
please  leave  me  before  you  get  into  hot  water. 
People  are  watching  us,  don't  you  see  ?  "  Landes 
glanced  around  and  saw  that  several  savage-looking 
men  had  crossed  over  and  were  standing  near  them, 
talking  in  whispers  and  casting  sullen  glances  towards 
de  Carette's  uniform. 

"Good-bye,"  murmured  the  Frenchman, — "and 
don't  shake  hands.  I  am  going  to  find  Vinoy's 
staff  if  I  can."  He  turned  on  his  heel  without  a 
salute  and  started  down  the  wooden  line  of  huts. 
Landes  overtook  him  in  two  strides,  laid  one  hand 
on  his  shoulder  and  held  out  the  other. 

"What  do  you  take  me  for,  Captain  de  Carette?" 

"  For  a  very  rash  young  man,"  rejoined  the  other, 
irritably, — "  and  a  true  comrade,"  he  added  with 
warm  feeling,  "  whose  head,"  he  continued  with  a 
shrug,  "  I  should  not  like  to  see  broken •" 


80  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"What 's  this  ?  "  interrupted  Philip. 

They  had  been  walking  toward  the  lower  end  of 
the  wooden  shelter.  A  middle-aged  gentleman  was 
standing  quietly  before  one  of  the  huts  there.  A 
man  had  approached  him  and  was  saying: 

"  I  think,  Monsieur,  that  you  are  General  Clement 
Thomas?  " 

"  I  am,"  replied  the  gentleman,  drily. 

Several  passers-by  hearing  the  name  of  Cle'ment 
Thomas  stopped  and  gazed  curiously  at  him.  A 
lieutenant  of  the  National  Guard  was  among  them,  a 
very  young  lieutenant,  whose  commission  was  evi 
dently  of  recent  date,  for  he  had  sewed  galons  on 
the  sleeves  of  his  overcoat,  and  he  made  an  unneces 
sary  racket  with  his  sword. 

"  Ah,"  he  cried  insolently,  "  so  you  are  Clement 
Thomas?  " 

Already  a  group  of  curious  people  had  formed 
around  the  General. 

"  What  could  have  induced  him  to  come  to  Mont- 
martre?  "  whispered  de  Carette  in  Landes'  ear. 

The  lieutenant  rattled  his  sword  and  looked 
fiercely  at  Thomas.  "  Had  the  General  come  to  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  movement  ?  " 

"  No,  mesenfants,"  said  Clement  Thomas,  looking 
around  on  the  group  eyeing  him,  "  I  am  getting  old. 
I  have  sent  in  my  resignation." 

"  Then  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  cried  the  lieu 
tenant,  in  a  menacing  tone. 

"A  spy,"  muttered  the  people,  edging  nearer.  A 
soldier  of  the  National  Guard,  grey-headed  and  sun 
burnt,  his  rifle  en  bandoultire,  came  up  and  asked 
what  was  the  matter. 


"THE  EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH"  8 1 


"  We  are  looking  at  Clement  Thomas,"  said  a  by 
stander,  with  careless  impudence. 

"  Clement  Thomas  here  ?  " 

"  Le  voila,"  said  the  man,  jerking  his  thumb  tow 
ard  the  group  where  Thomas  stood,  quiet  and  self- 
possessed,  but  a  little  pale.  The  Federal  drew  him 
self  up. 

"  Then  we  must  shoot  him  !  "  he  said  with  quiet 
ferocity. 

General  Thomas  heard  and  turned  white.  The 
Federal's  eyes  met  his.  More  people  ran  up.  The 
name  of  Clement  Thomas  passed  from  lip  to  lip. 

"  Remember  1848  !  "  cried  an  old  man,  shaking  his 
fist  at  the  General. 

"  So  there  you  are,  assassin  of  the  people!"  growled 
the  menacing  voices. 

"  General  Thomas,  do  you  remember  the  Faubourg 
St.  Antoine?"  called  a  renegade  marine.  The 
clamor  increased. 

"  Did  you  shoot  enough  people  in  the  rue  Mar 
guerite,  General  Thomas  ?  "  some  one  bawled. 

An  old  man  pushed  into  the  circle  and  faced  the 
General. 

"  Canaille !  You  sat  on  your  horse  in  the  rue 
Saint-Avoie  and  laughed  as  you  cried  :  '  String  me 
all  those  ragamuffins  together  on  a  bayonet!' 
Cursed  butcher ! " 

"  Remember  Montretout  !  "  howled  a  wretched- 
looking  Mobile,  and  lunged  at  Clement  Thomas 
with  his  bayonet.  De  Carette  was  too  quick  for  him. 
With  a  stroke  of  his  sabre  he  severed  the  Mobile's 
hand  at  the  wrist.  The  man  dropped  in  a  dead 
faint,  but  the  crowd  fell  upon  de  Carette.  Landes 


»2  THE    RED  REPUBLIC. 


struck  two  or  three  of  them  in  the  face,  and  then 
they  turned  on  him  too. 

"  Death  !  Death  !  Down  with  the  spies  !  "  they 
yelled. 

Clement  Thomas,  de  Carette,  and  Landes  were 
now  crushed  together  in  the  centre  of  a  throng, 
which  pressed  so  closely  upon  them  that  the  bayonet 
thrusts  and  sword  cuts  delivered  at  them  passed 
over  their  heads  and  the  mob  wounded  each  other. 

"  Assez,  nom  de  Dieu  !  "  shouted  an  officer  of  the 
National  Guard,  warding  off  the  bayonets  with 
difficulty. 

"  Arrest  them  !  Arrest  them  !  "  cried  the  Federals, 
"  We  can  shoot  them  later." 

"  Death  to  them  !  "  thundered  the  mob. 

A  man  galloped  up  on  a  strong  grey  horse  and 
pushed  his  way  right  into  the  middle  of  the  crowd. 
It  was  Dardelles,  commandant  of  the  Cavaliers  of 
the  Republic,  an  insurgent  company  of  ill  repute. 
He  laid  about  him  with  the  flat  of  his  sabre,  and 
forcing  a  path  to  General  Thomas,  seized  him  by 
the  collar. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  cried. 

The  old  man  stammered  something  unintelligible, 
but  his  voice  was  lost  in  the  roar  from  the  crowd : 

"  Clement  Thomas  !     Clement  Thomas  !  " 

"  Then  I  arrest  you  in  the  name  of  the  Republic  !  " 
cried  Dardelles,  and,  clearing  a  way  for  himself  at 
the  point  of  his  terrible  sabre,  marched  into  the  street 
with  his  prisoner.  Six  Federals  followed  dragging 
Landes,  and  six  more  escorted  de  Carette,  who 
walked  with  head  erect  and  uniform  in  tatters. 


"THE  EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH."  83 

"  If  anyone  attempts  to  kill  the  prisoners  before 
they  are  judged,  I  '11  pass  my  sword  through  his 
body,"  snarled  Dardelles.  A  thousand  voices  re 
plied  in  one  mighty  shout :  "  Death  !  "  An  insurgent, 
one  Captain  Ras,  placed  himself  beside  Dardelles 
with  drawn  revolver. 

"  We  are  not  butchers,"  he  said  to  the  mob,  "  let 
them  be  judged  by  a  tribunal." 

"  You  dare  not  use  your  pistol,"  sneered  a  franc- 
tireur,  and  aimed  a  blow  at  Landes  with  the  butt  of 
his  rifle. 

Captain  Ras  seized  the  uplifted  gun  with  one  hand. 

"  You  ass  !  "  he  said,  and  blew  out  his  brains. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  de  Carette  to  Ras,  but  was 
sternly  bidden  to  hold  his  tongue  and  move  faster. 

Notwithstanding  this  swift  example,  blows  were 
constantly  aimed  at  the  prisoners  from  the  savage 
mob  surrounding  them. 

Dardelles  slashed  a  man  over  the  mouth  with  his 
sword  and  laughed  at  his  awful  cry. 

"  Now  you  have  a  beautiful  mouth.  Grin,  my 
friend,"  he  sneered.  At  the  same  moment,  Clement 
Thomas  received  a  bayonet  thrust  in  the  forearm, 
and  Captain  Ras  struck  the  would-be  murderer  a 
blow  with  the  hilt  of  his  sword  which  tore  one  eye 
from  its  socket  and  crushed  in  his  face  like  an  egg 
shell. 

"  Will  you  learn  that  I  keep  my  word  ?  "  he  cried 
to  the  mob,  which  answered  with  a  bellow. 

At  that  instant  a  battalion  of  the  National  Guard 
arrived  and  surrounded  the  prisoners  with  a  hedge 
of  bayonets.  Landes  and  de  Carette  now  marched 


84  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


side  by  side,  and  could  exchange  a  word  or  two 
without  being  threatened  by  their  guards. 

"Where  are  they  taking  us?  "  murmured  Philip, 
wiping  the  bloody  foam  from  his  lips. 

"  My  poor  friend,  to  the  Central  Committee.  It 
is  sitting  in  the  Chateau  Rouge,  rue  Clignancourt, 
they  say." 

At  the  intersection  of  the  Boulevard  Magenta  and 
the  old  exterior  Boulevard,  the  crowd  was  greatly 
increased  and  the  air  was  filled  with  the  cry  of 
"  Death  !  Death  !  " 

When  they  arrived  at  the  Chateau  Rouge,  the 
prisoners  were  thrust  into  a  room  filled  with  Na 
tional  Guards.  They  were  not  allowed  to  converse 
together,  and  the  Federals  passed  the  time  in  heap 
ing  insults  on  Clement  Thomas,  who  sat  as  if  stunned, 
his  head  drooping  on  his  breast.  An  old  captain, 
wearing  the  medal  of  July,  turned  his  attention  to 
Landes,  and  assured  him  with  unction  that  he  had 
assisted  at  every  revolution  for  forty  years,  and  that 
Philip's  affair  would  soon  be  regulated  in  front  of  a 
dead  wall. 

It  was  a  little  after  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
sunlight  flooded  the  shabby  room.  A  pigeon  flew 
down  from  an  opposite  roof  and  strutted  cooing  to 
and  fro  along  the  window  ledge  outside,  until  a  sol 
dier  tried  to  catch  it  by  the  legs  and  it  flew  away. 

For  an  hour  they  sat  there,  a  butt  for  the  soldiers, 
who  proudly  proclaimed  that  they  were  a  Belleville 
battalion.  De  Carette  raised  his  eyebrows  ironically 
at  this,  and  nearly  paid  for  it  with  his  life,  for  a  sol 
dier  fired  at  him  point-blank.  Then  a  quarrel  arose 


"THE   EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH"  85 


among  the  soldiers  as  to  what  should  be  done  with 
the  prisoners.  The  Central  Committee  was  not,  after 
all,  it  appeared,  during  this  altercation,  in  the  Cha 
teau  Rouge.  Some  wanted  to  push  the  prisoners  into 
the  garden,  and  get  the  thing  over  with.  Others 
insisted  upon  their  being  led  upstairs  to  wait  for  the 
Central  Committee.  At  last,  after  a  bitter  wrangle, 
the  three  prisoners  were  seized  and  dragged  upstairs 
to  the  first  floor.  There  they  were  received  by  a 
captain  of  the  /9th  battalion,  who  invited  them  to 
enter,  very  courteously,  and  immediately  slammed 
the  door  in  the  faces  of  their  Belleville  captors,  to  the 
latter's  unfeigned  astonishment. 

General  Thomas  dropped  into  a  seat,  bewildered 
and  exhausted,  and  apparently  did  not  hear  the 
kindly  questions  which  the  captain  of  the  79th  ad 
dressed  to  him,  but  de  Carette  replied  with  equal 
courtesy  and  the  two  officers  exchanged  names.  The 
captain  of  the  79th  was  one  Mayer,  a  journalist.  He 
told  Landes  that  he  had  a  son,  a  prisoner  in  Ger 
many.  He  also  said  that  General  Leqomte  had  been 
taken  prisoner,  and  was  under  guard  in  the  next 
room. 

"  I  have  served  on  his  staff,"  said  de  Carette, 
sadly.  "  Will  they  shoot  him  ?  " 

"  I  trust  they  will  shoot  no  one/*  said  the  Federal 
officer,  earnestly  ;  but  de  Carette  smiled  and  walked 
to  a  window  opening  on  the  garden. 

"  That  wall  is  too  convenient,"  he  said,  with  a  dry- 
laugh. 

As  he  spoke,  the  door  opened  and  an  officer  en 
tered,  guarded  by  two  soldiers  of  the  National 


86  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Guard.  It  was  Captain  Frank,  of  the  i8th  Chasseurs- 
a-pied  de  marche,  who  so  valiantly  defended  General 
Lecomte  when  the  crowd  fell  upon  him.  He  bowed 
gaily  to  de  Carette,  but  was  led  to  a  further  room 
and  locked  in.  And  now  other  prisoners  began  to 
arrive  :  Monsieur  de  Pousarges  of  the  i8th  Foot 
Chasseurs,  an  officer  of  the  89th  de  marche,  two 
captains  of  the  Ii5th  of  the  Line  who  had  been 
abandoned  by  their  men  in  the  Gare  du  Nord,  and  a 
captain  of  the  84th  in  mufti,  who  had  just  returned 
from  captivity  in  Germany,  and  had  been  arrested  as 
he  got  out  of  the  train  that  morning  on  the  ridiculous 
charge  of  being  a  spy. 

It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  still  the 
mysterious  Central  Committee  had  not  appeared. 
De  Carette  linked  his  arm  in  Philip's,  and  walked  to 
the  window  for  the  hundredth  time. 

"  Hallo,"  he  said,  glancing  into  the  garden,  "  this 
looks  ominous." 

A  file  of  National  Guards  were  fixing  their  bayo 
nets  to  the  barrels  of  their  rifles  and  forming  along 
the  garden  path. 

"  Looks  as  if  we  were  going  to  take  another  jour 
ney,  does  n't  it?  "  he  said. 

Landes  stared  at  the  soldiers  without  replying. 

"  Courage,"  whispered  de  Carette. 

"  I  could  stand  it,  I  think,"  said  Philip,  "  to  die 
decently,  but  I  am  afraid  of  the  mob.  If  we  are  to 
be  led  through  the  streets  again,  I  *d  rather  end  now, 
down  there  in  the  garden.  My  God !  I  can't  go 
through  the  mob  again,"  he  murmured,  trembling 
from  head  to  foot. 


"THE  EIGHTEENTH   OF  MARCH"  8/ 


"  Courage,  my  dear  comrade,"  said  Alain.  His 
voice  was  affectionately  caressing. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Captain  Mayer,  "  an  escort  is 
waiting  to  take  you  to  the  Central  Committee. 
Word  has  been  received  that  they  expect  you  at  the 
Buttes-Montmartre.  Have  the  goodness  to  descend 
to  the  garden." 

De  Carette  passed  his  arm  through  Philip's  again 
and  felt  it  shaking. 

"  I  won't  shame  you,"  said  Landes,  as  they  went 
down  the  stairs,  "  only  I  can't  help  feeling  sick. 
This  sort  of  thing  is  new  to  me,"  he  added,  trying 
to  laugh. 

"  You  would  never  have  known  it  if  you  had  been 
less  faithful  to  me,  comrade,"  said  Alain. 

When  they  entered  the  garden,  they  saw  General 
Lecomte  for  the  first  time.  He  stood  alone,  heavily 
guarded.  The  prisoners  all  saluted  him,  even  the 
Federal  officers  bowed  to  the  brave  old  General,  who 
punctiliously  returned  each  salute,  but  the  National 
Guard  cursed  him  and  the  prisoners,  and  promised 
them  the  fate  of  General  Brea  and  his  aide-de 
camp. 

And  now  began  the  terrible  journey  through 
Montmartre.  A  heavy  mist  hung  over  the  hill,  hid 
ing  its  summit,  and  through  it  the  drums  and  bugles 
of  the  escort  sounded  dull  and  spiritless.  Cries  and 
groans  surrounded  them  from  the  furious  mob. 
Death  !  Death  !  "  they  screamed,  and  blows  began 
to  fall  among  the  prisoners.  An  officer  in  front  of 
Landes  sank  to  the  pavement  with  his  skull  split 
open.  Another,  a  mere  boy,  was  pinned  to  the 


88  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


ground  by  a  bayonet  thrust  in  the  back,  and  his 
cries  were  heartrending,  until  an  old  hag  beat  his 
brains  out  with  her  wooden  shoe.  The  mob  had 
tasted  blood  and  raged  howling  for  more.  The  offi 
cers  defended  their  prisoners  with  the  strength  of 
despair,  but  another  victim  was  added  to  the  list  be 
fore  the  cortege  reached  the  sloping  streets  of  the 
Buttes- Montmartre.  Here  herds  of  maddened 
women  cursed  them  from  the  windows  and  shook 
brawny  fists  in  their  faces.  In  the  midst  of  an  in 
fernal  din,  the  escort  halted  before  a  small  two-story 
house  on  the  summit  of  the  hill  in  the  rue  des 
Rosiers.  The  prisoners  were  pushed  into  the  court 
yard,  and  afterward  into  a  room  on  the  ground  floor. 
The  crowd  attempted  to  follow,  but  the  courtyard 
was  small,  and  the  mob  numbered  thousands.  A 
shot  was  fired  at  the  prisoners  as  they  entered,  but 
nobody  was  touched. 

General  Lecomte  demanded  to  be  led  before  the 
Committee.  The  Federal  officers  replied  that  the 
Committee  had  not  yet  arrived,  but  was  expected 
every  moment. 

"  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry  !  "  grinned  a  franc- 
tireur,  with  a  hideous  grimace.  "  There  is  plenty 
of  time  to  die." 

"  Sale  cochon  ! "  yelled  a  deserter  from  the  Line, 
trying  to  reach  Clement  Thomas  with  his  bayonet, 
"  you  gave  me  ninety  days'  police  cell ; — I  give  you 
eternity !  " 

The  officers  defended  their  prisoners  with  unmis 
takable  devotion,  but  they  were  few  against  many. 
Someone  in  a  red  shirt  climbed  on  to  the  wall  and  -id' 


"  THE   EIGHTEENTH   OF  MARCH"  89 


dressed  the  mob.  He  begged  them  to  nominate  a 
court-martial  or  else  to  wait  for  the  Central  Com 
mittee.  He  told  them  that  they  were  about  to 
commit  a  cowardly  crime,  and  disgrace  the  young 
Republic  for  which  they  were  shouting  so  loudly.  In 
vain. 

"  Tu  parle  d'or,  mais  il  nous  faut  du  sang,"  said  a 
deserter  of  the  Line,  with  a  brutal  laugh. 

"  Beware  !"  shouted  the  orator,  "  the  soldiers  of 
the  Republic  should  have  clean  hands.  This  is 
butchers'  work  !  " 

"  Et  ta  sceur !  Est  ce  qu'elle  est  propre  ?  "  bellowed 
a  butcher  from  La  Villette.  "  You  are  right,  my 
friend,  this  is  butchers'  work.  Death  to  the  bour 
geoisie  ! "  and  he  struck  the  man  a  blow  with  his  fist 
which  knocked  him  into  the  garden.  That  was  the 
signal.  Howling  like  wolves,  the  mob  attacked  the 
windows  on  the  first  floor,  breaking  in  the  sashes 
with  their  rifle  butts,  and  thrusting  their  bayonets 
into  the  room.  The  prisoners  stood  crowded  close 
together,  with  white  faces,  but  not  a  man  flinched. 
Alain  de  Carette  supported  Clement  Thomas  with 
one  arm,  and  warded  off  blows  with  the  other. 
General  Lecomte  stood  quiet  and  stern,  with  folded 
arms,  beside  Landes,  hardly  deigning  to  avoid  the 
bayonet  thrusts  which  fell  just  short  of  his  breast. 
Then  by  the  garden  gate  the  mob  broke  in  with  dread 
ful  cries,  and  a  shocking  scene  began.  De  Carette 
received  at  once  a  blow  which  sent  him  reeling  to 
the  floor,  the  mob  fell  upon  Clement  Thomas,  and 
the  dull  sound  of  blows  succeeded  the  clank  of  bayo 
nets.  At  last  they  got  him  to  the  garden  and  pushed 


90  THE  RED  REPUBLIC, 


him  against  the  wall.  Twelve  rifle  shots  rang  out, 
not  in  a  volley,  but  one  after  another,  and  after  the 
twelfth  shot,  as  the  old  man  still  breathed,  a  cor 
poral  of  the  Belleville  battalion  stepped  forward,  and, 
shoving  his  revolver  into  the  dying  man's  ear,  scat 
tered  his  brains  over  the  grass.  And  now  the  mob, 
drunk  with  blood,  returned  and  fell  upon  General 
Lecomte.  Twenty  times  the  other  prisoners,  with 
generous  devotion,  tore  him  away  from  the  bloody 
hands  that  snatched  at  him.  Landes  fought  des 
perately,  but  at  last  a  blow  in  the  chest  felled  him, 
and,  unable  to  rise,  he  dragged  himself  from  under 
the  trampling  feet,  into  a  corner.  There,  leaning 
back,  faint  with  pain,  he  saw  General  Lecomte  seized 
and  dragged  into  the  garden,  and  heard  how  he  was 
shot  to  pieces  against  the  wall. 

"  Good-bye,  Philip  !  "  cried  Alain  de  Carette,  stag 
gering  to  his  feet ;  "  they  are  coming  back  for  us." 

"  I  can't  die  yet,"  stammered  Philip  ;  "  I  won't 
die  !  "  and  he  made  a  desperate  effort  to  rise.  Sud 
denly  a  furious  crash  of  drums  filled  the  street  out 
side,  and  a  stream  of  National  Guards  poured  into 
the  court  filling  the  garden,  forcing  the  peloton  of 
execution  into  the  street. 

"  Give  us  the  prisoners  !  "  yelled  the  crowd. 

"  Fix  bayonets !     Clear  the  yard  !  " 

The  scene  was  so  hideous  that  Philip,  who  had 
struggled  to  the  window  and  was  looking  out,  felt 
he  was  losing  his  senses,  but  de  Carette's  hand  tight 
ened  on  his. 

"  We  have  a  chance,"  he  said.  "  These  are  troops 
from  Sceaux." 


"THE  EIGHTEENTH  OF  MARCH."  9! 


Inch  by  inch  the  Sceaux  battalion  cleared  the 
yard,  and  then  the  street  immediately  in  front. 

"You  see  the  consequences,"  said  the  Colonel, 
shaking  his  revolver,  and  forcing  his  horse  into  the 
mob,  "  of  trifling  with  me  and  my  troops."  He 
leaned  over,  seized  a  burly  ruffian  by  the  collar,  and 
swinging  him  off  his  feet,  deliberately  broke  his  neck 
over  the  pommel  of  his  saddle.  The  mob  had  al 
ready  begun  to  sober  a  little,  to  realize  what  it  had 
done,  and  to  fear  consequences.  More  than  one 
brute,  red-handed  from  his  share  of  slaughter  in  the 
garden,  had  slunk  away,  and  was  skulking  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  crowd,  still  held  there  by  the  fascina 
tion  of  his  crime  ;  but  at  this  merciless  exhibition  of 
physical  strength  they  hesitated  no  longer,  and  in 
half  an  hour  the  Sceaux  battalion,  drums  and  bugles 
sounding,  prisoners  in  their  midst,  marched  unmo 
lested  out  of  the  rue  des  Rosiers,  and  shortly  after 
ward  entered  the  Chateau  Rouge  without  striking  a 
blow. 

So  began  the  famous  i8th  of  March,  1871.  The 
Central  Committee  had  made  its  bow,  the  curtain 
was  rising  on  a  drama  called  the  "  Commune," 
with  all  Paris  for  a  stage,  and  Monsieur  Thiers  as 
prompter. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  CO  WARDL  Y  FLIGHT. 

WHEN  the  convoy  of  prisoners  arrived  in 
the  rue  Clignancourt,  the  bells  of  Mont- 
martre  were  sounding  five  o'clock.  A  wet 
fog  had  settled  over  the  city,  the  streets  grew  slip 
pery  with  greasy  mud.  The  prisoners  inarched 
into  the  courtyard,  and  an  officer  with  note-book  in 
hand  walked  along  the  line,  taking  names  and  ad 
dresses.  When  he  came  to  Alain  de  Carette,  he 
stopped  in  confusion. 

"  Good  evening,"  said  Alain,  sarcastically  ;  "  shall 
I  give  you  my  name  ?  " 

"  Good  evening,  Monsieur  de  Carette,"  said  the 
other,  in  a  low  voice  ;  "  it  is  not  necessary,  thank 
you."  He  passed  on  to  the  next  prisoner,  who  was 
Landes,  hesitated,  and  turned  back  to  Alain.  "  Is 
there  anything  I  can  do  for  Monsieur,"  he  asked, 
looking  at  the  ground. 

"  You  are  not  in  a  position  to  confer  favors,"  re 
plied  Alain,  contemptuously. 

"  I  am  chef  de  bataillon,"  said  the  man,  misunder 
standing  him. 

"And  my  former  valet,"  replied  de  Carette. 

"  I  do  not  forget  that  you  were  very  kind  to  me," 
said  the  man,  doggedly  ;  "  I  '11  do  what  I  can  for 

92 


A    COWARDLY  FLlGfff.  93 


you,  and  for  your  friend."  He  took  Philip's  name 
and  passed  on  along  the  line.  Then  the  prisoners 
were  conducted  to  the  second  floor  of  the  Chateau 
Rouge.  Almost  immediately  an  officer  entered, 
calling  for  Captain  de  Carette  and  "  le  nomm£  "  Philip 
Landes.  When  they  stepped  forward,  he  led  them 
down  the  stairs  again  and  into  a  narrow  passage,  at 
the  end  of  which  a  man  sat  behind  a  table  writing. 
It  was  Jaclard,  chef  de  bataillon  of  the  National  Guard. 

"  Are  you  the  two  prisoners  ?  "  he  inquired,  ner 
vously. 

They  gave  their  names,  and  he  nodded  and  began 
to  question  them  awkwardly.  Landes  and  de  Carette 
answered  with  hope  in  their  hearts  again. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Jaclard,  fumbling  in  an 
embarrassed  manner  with  his  pens  and  paper,  "  you 
are  at  liberty  to  go.  The  Central  Committee  won't 
come  to-night." 

"Are  we  free  ?  "  stammered  Philip. 

"Yes." 

"And  the  others  ?  "  demanded  Alain. 

"  They  will  have  to  wait  here  to-night.  The  Cen 
tral  Committee  will  judge  them  to-morrow  ;  I  have 
no  time  to  bother  with  them  to-night,"  he  snapped 
pettishly,  and  walked  out,  slamming  the  door.  The 
two  friends  gazed  at  each  other.  Was  this  true  ? 
Were  they  free,  or  was  it  a  trap  to  shoot  them  down 
as  they  entered  the  court  ?  Philip  and  Alain  thought 
of  this  at  the  same  moment. 

"  I  '11  go  first,"  said  the  latter. 

"  No,  I  will,"  insisted  Philip,  but  de  Carette  pushed 
through  the  door  before  him  and  sprang  into  the 


94  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


yard.  It  was  silent  and  empty.  "  Come,  Philip  !  " 
he  whispered,  and  together  they  passed  the  gate  and 
went  into  the  street. 

"  If  we  're  recognized  now  we  're  done  for,"  mut 
tered  de  Carette.  My  uniform  will  probably  do  the 
business  for  me,  anyway  ;  you  must  leave  me  now." 

"  I  won't  go,"  replied  Philip,  angrily. 

"All  right,  we  '11  pull  through  together, — is  that  a 
cab  ?  " 

"  It  has  no  number  ;  I  '11  ask"  said  Landes,  and 
ran  across  the  street  while  de  Carette  drew  back  into 
the  shadow.  The  driver  was  not  in  sight.  Philip 
looked  about,  and  then  quietly  stepped  into  the 
driver's  place  and  beckoned  to  Alain.  "  Jump  in 
side,  quick,"  he  whispered,  as  the  latter  came  up. 
Alain  did  so,  and  leaned  back  out  of  sight.  Philip 
gathered  up  the  reins,  and  the  horse  moved  off  at 
once.  Unquestioned  they  passed  a  strong  post  of 
National  Guards  on  the  exterior  Boulevard  and 
turned  into  the  city  at  a  smart  trot.  On  they  rattled 
past  more  National  Guards  and  a  small  park  of  can 
non,  through  noisy  streets  filled  with  excited  people, 
but  nobody  interfered  with  them,  and  at  last  they 
reached  the  Grand  Boulevard  in  safety.  That  part 
of  the  city  was  perfectly  tranquil.  People  sat  smok 
ing  in  front  of  all  the  cafes,  precisely  as  if  they  knew 
nothing  about  the  bloody  tragedy  of  the  rue  des 
Rosiers.  In  front  of  Tortoni's,  gay  groups  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen  sipped  their  cordials,  and  street  fakirs 
thronged  the  sidewalks  and  pressed  their  wares  as 
usual.  All  the  theatres  were  open  and  blazing  with 
gas,  vehicles  crowded  along  the  Boulevard  des 


A    COWARDLY  FLIGHT.  95 


Italiens,  and  the  terraces  of  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix  were 
packed. 

"  It  seems  incredible,"  said  Philip,  looking  down 
at  de  Carette,  who  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  win 
dow  and  motioned  him  to  stop  ;  "  it  seems  incredible  ! 
I  don't  believe  the  city  knows  any  thing  about  Mont- 
martre." 

"  Evidently  not,"  said  Alain,  cynically. 

"Where  shall  I  drive,  Monsieur?"  asked  Landes, 
smiling. 

"  Drive  to  the  War  Ministry.  I  must  report  there 
at  once."  Landes  drove  on  through  the  crowd  of 
omnibuses  and  cabs.  In  a  few  minutes  they  drew 
up  before  the  Ministry  of  War  in  the  rue  St.  Domi 
nique.  They  left  the  cab  standing  before  the  porte 
cochere  of  the  War  Ministry,  and  Philip  followed  de 
Carette  into  the  court  and  up  the  stairs  to  the 
second  landing.  Here  a  sentinel  halted  them,  took 
de  Carette's  name,  and  sent  a  servant  away  to  find  a 
staff-officer.  Presently  they  were  ushered  into  a  long 
apartment  where  three  officers  sat  with  their  heads 
together  over  a  small  table  by  a  window.  The  three 
officers  were  old  General  Le  Flo,  Marshal  Mac- 
Mahon,  and  General  Borel. 

"  Well,"  said  General  Le  Flo,  smiling  pleasantly 
at  Alain,  "  you  look  like  one  of  my  youngsters." 

"  I  have  served  on  your  staff,  mon  Ge'ne'ral,"  re 
plied  Alain,  saluting.  "  At  present  I  am  with  Gen 
eral  Vinoy." 

"  Where  is  General  Vinoy  ?  "  inquired  Marshal 
MacMahon,  who  had  only  that  day  returned  from 
captivity  in  Germany,  and  knew  nothing  of  the 


96  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

expedition  to  Montmartre.  Before  Alain  could 
answer,  General  Borel  spoke  up  sharply : 

"  You  have  been  on  Montmartre  ?  " 

Alain  told  his  story. 

The  three  officers  sat  silent ;  MacMahon  tugged 
at  his  grey  moustache  and  glanced  at  Borel,  who 
gnawed  his  lip  and  tore  bits  of  paper  from  the  map 
before  him.  Alain  and  Philip  saw  that  the  War 
Ministry  was  hearing  of  the  disaster  for  the  first 
time,  and  yet  he  felt  certain  that  the  news  had 
been  received  by  M.  Thiers. 

"  Well,"  demanded  General  Le  Flo,  "  what  is 
your  opinion  ?  Is  it  a  riot  or  a  revolution  ?  " 

"  Mon  General,"  replied  Alain,  "  it  is  a  riot  in 
which  blood  has  been  shed.  I  was  on  your  staff 
during  the  22d  of  January  in  the  Place  de  I'Hotel  de 
Ville.  The  two  riots  are  much  alike,  only  this  one 
has  not  been  checked " 

"  Who  is  this  gentleman  ? "  interrupted  Borel, 
brusquely. 

"  Monsieur  Landes,  mon  G6n6ral.  An  American, 
and  an  eye-witness ; — and  a  brave  and  loyal  friend 
who  compromised  himself  for  me,  and  who  helped 
us  to  defend  General  Lecomte  in  the  rue  des  Ro- 
siers  until  defence  was  no  longer  possible." 

"  Monsieur  belongs  to  a  brave  nation,"  said  Mac 
Mahon,  looking  kindly  at  Philip. 

The  door  opened  and  two  men  entered.  The 
three  generals  rose  and  saluted  respectfully,  but  the 
smaller  of  the  new-comers  motioned  them  to  be 
seated,  and  turning  to  his  companion  began  speak 
ing  in  a  high,  thin,  querulous  voice. 


A    COWARDLY  FLIGHT.  97 


"  Monsieur  Calmon,  send  for  that  aide-de-camp 
from  General  Pointe  de  Gevigny,  and  tell  Du  Faure 
to  come  to-morrow  morning."  Then  sitting  down 
in  an  arm-chair  before  the  fireplace,  he  removed  a 
pair  of  enormous  glasses,  polished  them  with  his 
handkerchief,  and  replaced  them  on  his  nose. 

Philip  had  seen  more  than  one  picture  of  that  lit 
tle  white-headed  gentleman,  and  he  knew  that  he 
stood  in  the  presence  of  Monsieur  Adolphe  Thiers. 

"  I  have  a  tooth-ache,"  said  the  Chief  of  the  Execu 
tive  Power  in  a  high-pitched  voice.  "  Why  does  n't 
that  aide-de-camp  come  ?  " 

General  Le  Flo  walked  over  and  whispered  some 
words  in  the  President's  ear. 

"  Eh?"  cried  Thiers,  peeping  at  de  Carette  over 
Le  Flo's  shoulder.  "  Dear  me  !  Let  him  tell  his 
story  again." 

"  But  surely,"  said  Marshal  MacMahon,  "  this  is 
not  news  to  you  ?  You  must  have  sent  somebody 
to  Montmartre  for  information  since  eight  o'clock 
this  morning  ?  " 

"  Nobody  was  sent.  The  cannon  had  been  cap 
tured,"  snapped  the  President,  peering  at  Alain 
through  his  round  glasses.  "  Tell  your  story, 
Captain." 

Alain  related  his  experience  again  briefly,  and 
paused. 

"  Have  you  anything  more  to  say  ? "  inquired 
Thiers. 

"  If  the  opinion  of  an  artillery  officer "  began 

Alain,  modestly. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Thiers,  impatiently. 


98  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


11  There  was  one  cause,"  resumed  Alain,  dryly, 
"  for  the  failure  to  remove  the  guns  this  morning 
after  they  were  retaken.  No  horses  were  sent  to  re 
move  them.  There  was  one  reason  why  this  failure 
resulted  in  disaster.  No  food  had  been  sent  for  the 
soldiers.  The  infantry  were  in  position  for  hours 
without  having  breakfasted  and  without  any  prospect 
of  breakfasting." 

"  What  kind  of  infantry  is  that  ?  "  growled  Mac- 
Mahon,  "  which  mutinies  for  want  of  a  single  break 
fast  ?  " 

"  It  is  an  infantry  demoralized  by  mixing  with 
civilians,  mon  General." 

"  Civilians  !  "  broke  in  General  Le  Flo.  "  Canaille  ! 
Montmartre  canaille  !  Belleville  ragamuffins  !  " 

Thiers  glanced  restlessly  from  face  to  face  and 
made  some  inarticulate  noises. 

"  Mon  Ge~ne>al !  "  said  Alain  to  Le  Flo,  "  it  is  not 
for  me  to  tell  you  the  causes  of  our  disaster.  You 
know  better  than  I  that  we  officers  have  lost  prestige 
with  our  troops  through  defeat.  In  the  field  they 
still  obey  us  from  habit  and  a  sense  of  danger,  but 
here  in  the  city  an  officer  no  longer  represents 
safety." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  General  Le  Flo,  "  neither  se 
curity  nor  authority  belongs  to  a  government  which 
may  cease  to  exist  to-day  or  to-morrow.  How  can 
officers  command  troops  in  its  name  ?  " 

Thiers  looked  angrily  at  the  speaker. 

"  Et  puis,"  he  said,  turning  brusquely  to  Alain. 

"  I  fear  I  am  intruding  on  your  valuable  time,"said 
de  Carette,  stiffly,  irritated  by  the  President's  manner. 


A    COWARDLY  FLIGHT.  99 


"  No,  no,  continue,  mon  enfant,"  said  Le  F16. 

Alain  went  on  quietly, 

"  Those  troops  which  surrounded  Montmartre 
were  really  nothing  but  National  Guards  in  Line  uni 
form.  Young  and  raw  they  fraternized  readily  with 
anyone  who  brought  them  food.  The  people  gave 
them  bread,  wine,  meat,  tobacco.  They  let  the 
gamins  handle  their  rifles.  When  their  officers 
interfered,  they  cursed  them  first  and  then  assaulted 
them." 

"  The  cavalry  charged  until  cut  to  pieces,  and  the 
artillery  galloped  off  with  its  guns  to  a  place  of 
safety,"  put  in  Thiers. 

The  three  Generals  exchanged  glances  at  this 
proof  that  the  President  was  well  informed  about 
the  whole  affair.  General  Le  F16  replied  : 

"  It  is  always  the  infantry  that  disbands  first  in  a 
revolt,  the  cavalry  next,  the  artillery  last.  An  in 
fantryman  throws  away  his  weapon  and  runs,  but  a 
trooper  is  less  willing  to  abandon  the  horse  that  car 
ries  him,  and  which  he  considers  his  property.  As 
for  the  artillery,  it  is  composed  of  human  units 
around  a  centre,  a  massive,  formidable  arm  ;  it  disin 
tegrates  with  difficulty. 

"After  all,"  said  General  Le  Flo,  "  it  appears  that 
the  only  regiment  which  has  revolted  is  the  88th 
miaxikry-de-marche,  mostly  new  recruits  from  Belle 
ville  and  Montmartre." 

At  that  moment  Calmon,  chief  of  Thiers'  private 
cabinet,  entered  with  the  aide-de-camp  from  General 
Pointe  de  Gevigny.  Thiers  nodded  to  them  and 
then  turned  brusquely  to  de  Carette. 


100  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Neither  General  Lecomte  nor  General  Clement 
Thomas  has  been  shot.  I  have  just  seen  Messieurs 
Langlois  and  Lockroy,  and  they  swear  that  they 
will  answer  for  the  lives  of  both  those  Generals." 

"  I  affirm  that  they  were  shot  this  afternoon," 
cried  Alain,  hotly. 

"  But,"  insisted  Thiers,  who  had  evidently  known 
the  truth  all  the  while,  and  only  wished  to  gain  time 
before  acknowledging  it,  "  but  how  do  you  know 
this?" 

"  I  have  already  told  you.  I  saw  the  Generals 
dragged  out  by  the  mob,  and  heard  the  shots  that 
killed  them." 

"  Did  you  see  them  shot  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Then  it 's  not  proven,"  said  the  President,  turn 
ing  abruptly  away.  "  Where 's  the  aide-de-camp 
from  General  Pointe  de  Gevigny?  " 

De  Carette  flushed  at  this  insult,  but  stepped 
back  and  gave  place  to  the  aide  who  now  advanced 
and  saluted. 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ? "  demanded  the 
President. 

"  From  Cherbourg,  mon  President." 

"  From  whom  ?  " 

"  From  General  Pointe  de  Gevigny  and  General 
Farre." 

"  And  your  name  ?  " 

"  Xavier  Feuillant,  Ordnance  officer  to  General 
Farre.'' 

"  And  what  does  he  want  ?  " 

"  General  Farrc  sends  me  to  say,"  said   the  aide, 


A    COWARDLY  FLIGHT.  IOI 


much  disconcerted  by  Thiers'  manner,  "  that  Gen 
eral  Pointe  de  Gevigny  commands  at  Cherbourg  a 
corps  of  thirty-five  thousand  men,  with  all  facilities 
for  transportation  to  Paris  within  forty-eight  hours. 
Their  discipline  and  courage  are  unquestioned.  The 
General  offers  you  his  support,  and  promises  that 
within  forty-eight  hours  not  an  insurgent  will  remain 
in  Paris  if  you  accept  his  offer." 

Thiers  flushed  and  muttered  something  about 
meddling  busybodies,  then,  turning  on  the  aide  with 
a  sneer,  he  cried  :  "  General  Pointe-de  Gevigny  is 
crazy  !  I  thank  him  for  his  good  intentions,  which 
are  of  no  use." 

The  aide  looked  as  though  he  would  like  to  sink 
through  the  floor;  the  officers  present  were  thunder 
struck. 

"  I  shall  form  an  army  which  will  be  quite  suffi 
cient  for  our  needs,"  continued  Thiers  ;  "you  can 
retire."  Noticing  de  Carette,  who  still  stood  at  at 
tention,  his  uniform  hanging  in  shreds  upon  him,  the 
President  added  :  "  Go,  Monsieur,  change  your  uni 
form  and  return  here  at  eight  o'clock."  Alain 
saluted,  and,  taking  Philip's  arm,  went  away. 

They  had  walked  some  distance  down  the  street 
before  either  spoke.  Then  Alain  asked  : 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"  I  should  not  like  to  say  what  I  think  of  it." 

"  H-m  !  "  said  the  young  soldier  ;  "  on  the  con 
trary,  I  should  very  much  like  to  say  what  I  think 
of  it." 

The  mob  had  possessed  themselves  of  Alain's 
watch,  purse,  and  sabre.  Philip's  money  and  watch 


102  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


had,  by  chance,  not  been  taken.  After  the  experi 
ence  which  they  had  shared  together  neither  thought 
of  separating.  It  wanted  still  five  minutes  to  seven. 
If  de  Carette  was  due  at  the  War  Ministry  in  an 
hour,  so,  they  each  took  for  granted,  was  Landes 
also.  Meanwhile,  they  were  torn,  and  dirty,  and 
starved,  neither  having  washed  or  eaten  since  the 
early  morning,  and  between  them  they  could  hardly 
have  mustered  one  whole  garment.  They  found  a 
bath,  sent  a  messenger  to  Alain's  quarters  and  the 
studio  in  rue  Notre  Dame  for  fresh  clothes,  and 
met  again  in  half  an  hour  to  dine  hastily  at  the  near 
est  restaurant.  It  would  not  do  to  keep  M.  Thiers 
waiting.  They  dared  not  linger  over  their  meal, 
still  less  did  either  venture  to  speak  about  some 
thing  that  had  been  in  his  mind  all  day,  tormenting 
him  with  keen  anxiety  and  self-reproach.  The  dis 
cussion  of  Jeanne  de  Brassac's  affairs  and  the  prob 
able  consequences  of  their  headlong  forgetfulness 
in  rushing  away  from  the  Hotel  Ferret  without 
leaving  a  soul  to  guard  it,  must  be  postponed  until 
after  the  interview  with  Thiers,  and  they  made  such 
dispatch  that  the  clocks  were  striking  eight  when 
they  presented  themselves  again  at  the  War  Ministry. 

The  officer  of  the  guard  saluted. 

"  There  is  nobody  here,  Captain  de  Carette." 

"  Nobody  here  !  " 

"  Not  a  soul." 

"  The  President  ? — the  Ministers  ?  " 

"  The  Ministers  have  left.  M.  Thiers  has  gone  to 
Versailles." 

"  What  the  devil " 


A    COWARDLY  FLIGHT.  103 


"  Precisely.  I  heard  Monsieur  Thiers  say :  '  Paris 
has  abandoned  us,  we  will  abandon  Paris.  Let  her 
stew  in  her  own  juice.'  " 

"  He  said  that?" 

"  I  heard  him,  Captain." 

Alain  seized  the  officer  by  the  arm  and  drew  him 
into  the  deserted  hall.  "  This  is  Monsieur  Landes, 
my  friend  and  comrade.  Tell  us  what  you  know," 
he  said  ;  "  it  's  like  a  cursed  nightmare." 

"  This  is  all  I  know.  I  was  inspecting  the  guard 
down  here.  M.  Thiers  sat  with  his  Ministers  above 
there  in  the  long  salon,  pretending  to  hold  a  council. 
I  did  not  see  it  myself,  but  those  who  did,  say  he 
would  not  listen  to  a  word.  He  shut  up  MacMahon 
and  the  old  Minister  of  War,  and  snubbed  Borel 
and  Appert,  and  yet  he  had  nothing  to  propose  him 
self.  General  Vinoy  arrived  with  his  staff.  They 
left  their  horses  at  the  gate  surrounded  by  a  squad 
ron  of  light  cavalry  who  had  served  as  escorts. 
Every  minute  messengers  arrived  with  fresh  news 
of  the  disaster  on  Montmartre,  and  brought  in  wit 
nesses  of  the  murders  of  the  Generals.  Suddenly, 
there  came  cries  from  the  direction  of  the  Esplanade. 
It  was  a  battalion  of  the  National  Guard  marching 
to  the  Hotel  de  Ville  carrying  a  red  flag,  and  shout 
ing,  '  Vive  la  Commune !  '  I  was  down  here,  I 
did  n't  see  him, — but  they  say  Thiers  squealed  like 
a  trapped  rabbit,  and  ran  out  into  the  hall.  From 
there  I  myself  heard  him  give  the  order  to  evacuate 
Paris.  Monsieur  de  Carette,"  said  the  officer,  bit- 
terly,  "with  my  handful  of  men  I  could  have  scat 
tered  that  battalion,  red  flags  and  all." 


IO4  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Well,"  said  Alain,  through  his  clenched  teeth? 
"  and  what  did  the  petit  bonhomme  do  next?  " 

"  He  ran  back  for  his  hat  and  the  next  minute 
came  tumbling  down  the  stairs.  '  General  Vinoy/ 
he  called  out,  '  I  will  take  your  escort.'  He  jumped 
into  his  coup6,  and  when  he  was  seated  he  took  out 
a  blank  book,  like  one  who  has  forgotten  a  trifle, 
and  scribbled  something.  It  was  an  order  to  abandon 
Mont-Valerien." 

"  Sainte  Vierge  !  "  groaned  de  Carette,  "  this  is 
criminal." 

"  Mont-Vale'rien,  the  one  impregnable  fortress  be 
tween  Paris  and  Versailles  !  "  said  Philip,  under  his 
breath. 

"  Then,"  continued  the  lieutenant,  passionately, 
"  then  he  stuck  his  head  out  of  the  window  and 
called  the  escort  around  him.  '  Gallop  !  Gallop  !  ' 
he  cried  to  the  officer  in  charge.  '  As  long  as  we 
are  on  this  side  of  the  Pont  de  Sevres  we  are  in 
danger  !  '  and  the  squadron  departed  at  full  speed, 
leaving  General  Vinoy  without  an  escort." 

De  Carette  turned  crimson,  and  struck  the  table 
with  his  clenched  fist. 

"  This  is  the  man  who  proposed  to  reconstruct 
France.  The  same  man  who  prepared  the  revolu 
tion  of  1830,  and  when  they  were  righting  in  Paris, 
ran  away  to  Enghien ;  the  same  man  who  prepared 
the  revolution  of  1848,  and  when  the  revolt  flamed 
up  stammered  out :  '  The  tide  rises  !  '  and  fled  in 
disguise." 

Everything  was  in  disorder,  seals  and  papers  were 
lying  on  the  tables,  books  and  precious  documents 


A    COWARDLY  FLIGHT.  10$ 

scattered  loosely  over  the  desks,  the  doors  of  cabinets 
swung  wide  open. 

"  How  many  men  have  you,  Lieutenant?" 

"  Thirty." 

"  Can  you  hold  the  gate  ?  " 

"  To  the  last  man." 

"  Good  !  Close  windows  and  bar  shutters,  let  them 
be  beaten  in  before  you  open.  I  will  attend  to 
these,"  motioning  toward  the  litter  of  books  and 
papers.  "  Go  now." 

The  lieutenant  saluted  and  withdrew.  Alain 
dropped  his  head  in  his  hands  but  only  fora  moment. 
Springing  up,  he  carried,  with  Philip's  help,  all  the 
books,  papers,  and  seals  to  the  cabinets,  and  closed 
and  locked  the  doors.  It  was  midnight  before  they 
finished.  Then  Alain  called  a  Huissierand  told  him 
to  put  up  two  camp  beds  in  the  long  salon. 

Leaving  Philip  to  sleep  if  he  could,  de  Carette 
went  down  to  the  court  below  where  the  little  hand 
ful  of  troops  were  stationed. 

"  When  have  your  men  eaten,  Lieutenant?" 

"  Not  in  twenty-four  hours.  There  were  no  orders, 
no  money,  and  no  provision." 

De  Carette  took  some  gold  pieces  from  his  pocket 
and  handed  them  to  a  corporal.  "  Run  over  to  the 
nearest  restaurant  and  send  food,"  he  said.  "  Keep 
a  good  watch  and  call  me  at  the  first  alarm." 

"  When  he  returned  to  the  long  salon,  Landes  was 
standing  on  the  balcony.  Alain  went  and  stood  be 
side  him  and  they  looked  out  together  for  a  moment. 
The  night  was  calm,  not  a  gunshot  echoed  in  the 
city. 


I06  THE  RED  REPUBLIC, 


"  Philip,"  said  de  Carette,  "  the  Hotel  Ferret  is 
unguarded." 

"  I  know  it." 

"  When  did  you  first  remember  that  we  had  rushed 
away  and  left  the  de  Brassac  apartments  to  the 
mercy  of  all  the  thieves  in  Paris?  " 

"  Just  when  we  came  out  on  the  old  Boulevard  by 
the  sheds.  I  was  going  to  speak  of  it  and  ask  what 
we  should  do, — when  the  people  began  to  eye  your 
uniform.  After  that  it  was  no  use." 

They  listened  awhile  in  the  serene  silence  about 
them.  Philip  began  again. 

"  This  cursed  somersault  of  Thiers  makes  infinitely 
worse  a  situation  which  I  thought  was  as  bad  as  it 
could  be.  There  is  no  police  now  to  search  for  her 
or  to  protect  her  if  I  found  her,  and  as  for  me,  I  can 
only  move  with  great  caution  for  they  are  after  me. 
That  shot  which  knocked  over  my  poor  cabby  told 
all  I  need  to  know.  And  now,"  he  added  with  a 
sigh  of  fatigue  and  discouragement,  "  now  I  lose 
your  help.  Of  course  there  is  only  one  thing  possible 
for  you,  and  that  is  to  report  to-morrow  at  the 
earliest  moment  at  Versailles." 

"  Yes.  It  appears  that  is  the  way  I  reward  your 
devotion  of  to-day  by  deserting  you  to-morrow,"  said 
de  Carette,  with  a  flush  of  mortification. 

"  You  can't  help  it,"  answered  Philip,  and  they 
shook  hands  cordially. 

The  first  morning  hour  was  nearly  over  when  the 
two  young  men,  after  a  long  and  anxious  consulta 
tion,  stretched  themselves  on  their  camp  beds  in  the 
deserted  salon,  where  they  were  soon  lying,  worn  out 
and  pale,  in  a  deep  slumber. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  DRUMS  OF   THE  265  TH. 

AT  seven  o'clock  of  the  same    morning,  Philip 
sprang    upright    on    his    cot.      "  They   are 
knocking,   Alain,"  he  said,  but   de   Carette 
was  already  at  the  door. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  demanded. 

"  The  officer  of  the  guard." 

Alain  threw  open  the  door  and  sitting  down 
began  to  pull  on  his  riding-boots  while  the  lieu 
tenant  reported  "  all  well." 

"  General  d'  Abzac  came  at  six.  He  refused  to 
believe  me  when  I  told  him  the  government  had 
fled " — a  tall  figure  in  the  uniform  of  a  chef  d' 
escadron  of  artillery  appeared  in  the  doorway: 
"  Hello,  Alain,  I  just  heard  that  the  government 
has  run  away.  It  's  not  true  of  course,  it 's  some 
blague !  "  Tardif  de  Moidrey  of  the  artillery  stationed 
at  the  Tuileries  was  in  a  rage.  His  deep  angry 
voice  boomed  like  a  big  bell  through  the  empty 
rooms. 

"  It 's  true,  mon  ami,"  said  Alain. 

"  What !  "  thundered  de  Moidrey.  "  Damn  their 
white  livers,  they  have  left  me  and  my  four  batteries 
in  the  Tuileries  without  any  orders !  I  want  my 
orders ! " 

107 


IO8  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


"  Mon  Commandant,"  replied  Alain,  "  nobody  is 
left  at  the  War  Ministry  but  myself  and  a  guard. 
Go  to  the  Governor  of  Paris." 

"  I  have  just  come  from  there,"  cried  de  Moidrey, 
"  there  is  n't  a  soul  there.  At  least  there  's  an  officer 
here." 

"  Mon  Commandant,  what  can  I  do?  " 

"  Have  you  got  the  seals  of  the  Ministry?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  write  me  an  order  and  I  can  get  out  by  the 
Porte  Dauphine  with  my  batteries.  I  call  you  to 
witness,  Captain  de  Carette,  that  Thiers  runs  away 
in  such  haste  that  he  forgets  my  brave  little  bat 
teries  !  "  De  Moidrey  walked  furiously  about  the 
room,  shouting,  "  Monstrous  !  Incredible  !  "  while 
Alain  scribbled  the  order  and  affixed  the  seals  of  the 
Ministry. 

Hardly  had  de  Moidrey  stalked  wrathfully  away 
with  his  order  when  others  arrived  with  similar  de 
mands.  General  Bocher  came  and  said  :  "  My  brigade 
was  under  arms  all  night.  I  would  not  even  let  my 
men  lie  down.  They  sat  with  chassepot  in  hand  on 
their  cots,  expecting  every  moment  the  order  to 
move  on  Montmartre." 

Count  Arthur  de  Vogu'6  of  the  Mobiles  began 
speaking  at  the  same  time,  but  both  were  now  si 
lenced  by  a  sound  from  the  street,  the  measured 
tread  of  marching  men.  All  crowded  to  the  win 
dows. 

"  Is  it  the  Federals?  "  cried  Bocher,  drawing  his 
revolver. 

"  No,  it  's  the  Line." 


THE  DRUMS  OF  THE  265  TH.  IOQ 


Farron's  division  was  swinging  along  toward  the 
Porte  Dauphine  in  perfect  silence  save  for  the 
metallic  clink  clank  of  the  steel-shod  horses  and  the 
rhythmic  trample  of  the  men.  The  35th  passed  in 
splendid  order,  followed  by  the  42d,  several  regi 
ments  de  marcke  and  the  Gendarmerie. 

"  Monsieur  Thiers  runs  away  when  he  has  such 
troops  as  these  at  his  command,"  sneered  an  officer. 
"  II  me  degoute  a  la  fin,  ce  petit  bonhomme." 

When  the  last  gendarme  had  ridden  out  of  the 
rue  St.  Dominique,  the  officers  turned  to  each 
other  with  gestures  of  despair.  "  There  is  but  one 
thing  for  us  to  do,"  they  said  ;  "  join  the  army  now 
forming  at  Versailles." 

One  by  one  they  shook  hands  with  Alain  and  left. 

"  I  '11  take  my  brigade  out  without  losing  a  man  !  " 
stormed  Bocher,  as  he  tramped  down  the  stairs  and 
slammed  the  wicket.  The  huissiers  were  coming  up 
in  a  body  as  the  officers  descended.  They  wanted 
to  know  if  they  might  go  too. 

"  The  Federals  may  come  at  any  moment,"  said 
one  of  them,  "  and  the  guard  below  would  only  be 
massacred." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  de  Carette.  "  Go  !  "  Alain 
and  Philip  were  left  standing  alone  in  the  deserted 
War  Ministry. 

"  One  thing  more,"  said  Alain,  in  a  low  voice  ; 
"  that  little  post  below  must  get  out  of  the  city. 
They  'd  better  go  now  or  it  will  be  too  late."  He 
wrote  the  order  and  sealed  it,  then  locking  up  the 
seals  he  took  his  cap  and  sabre  and  beckoned  Philip 
to  follow. 


HO  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


When  they  reached  the  courtyard  the  guard  of 
the  i  loth  presented  arms. 

"  I  will  inspect  your  men,"  said  de  Carette  to  the 
lieutenant  in  charge,  calling  the  others  from  the 
garden. 

With  their  battered  forage  caps  and  faded  red 
trousers,  their  bright  faces  and  firm  bearing,  the 
little  detachment  stood  silent  and  attentive,  while 
de  Carette  passed  them  rapidly  in  inspection.  Then 
he  turned  to  the  lieutenant.  "  Here  is  your  order; 
go  by  the  Porte  Dauphine.  March!  " 

The  lieutenant  hesitated  and  stammered  : 

"  But  we  would  like  to  see  you  safe  first,  mon 
Capitaine  ;  is  it  not  so,  mes  enfants  ?  "  The  little 
troop  swinging  their  battered  caps  woke  up  the 
courtyard  and  hallway  with  their  cheering. 

"  Thank  you,  my  children,"  said  Alain,  much 
moved  ;  "  I  am  safe  ;  obey  orders  !  March  !  " 

The  lieutenant  straightened  up.  "  March  !  "  he 
repeated,  and  saluting,  passed  out  into  the  street 
with  his  handful  of  men.  Alain  and  Philip  were 
left  alone. 

"  Come  up  on  the  terrace  of  the  garden,"  said 
de  Carette ;  "  we  can  talk  there  and  watch  the  rue 
de  Bourgogne  at  the  same  time ;  they  will  come 
from  that  direction  ;  "  and  he  led  the  way.  The 
sun  was  shining  in  a  cloudless  sky.  Birds  chirped 
from  every  shrub  ;  it  was  Sunday,  a  Sabbath  still 
ness  was  in  the  air.  Across  the  river  a  mellow  bell 
tolled  and  the  soft  spring  wind  bore  a  murmur  of 
distant  chimes  to  their  ears.  They  sat  down  on  the 
parapet  overlooking  the  rue  de  Bourgogne,  and 
Alain  produced  two  rolls  and  a  bottle  of  milk. 


THE   DRUMS   OF  THE  265 TH.  Ill 

"  Perhaps  our  last  meal  together,"  said  Landes, 
smiling. 

"  Who  knows.  Versailles  is  not  far  off,"  said  de 
Carette.  "  Not  far  off,"  he  repeated,  sadly  ;  "  and 
yet  I  predict  that  if  we  have  found  it  easy  to  leave 
Paris  we  shall  not  find  it  easy  to  return.  It  's  a  bad 
business — a  bad  business."  Landes  nodded. 

"  As  for  leaving  you,  can  you  imagine  how  I  hate 
to  do  that  ?  It  seems  like  desertion,  you  know.  If 
I  could  stay,  Philip,  my  friend,  I  would." 

"  I  know  you  would,"  answered  Philip  ;  "  why 
speak  of  it  ?  Do  you  think  Thiers  means  to  come 
back?" 

"  He  means  to,  yes,  and  he  will  if  he  can.  Oh,  of 
course  some  time  we  shall  retake  the  city,  but  what 
will  happen  first  ?  " 

"  The  Commune  means  the  Reign  of  Terror,"  said 
Landes. 

"  That,  and  nothing  else,"  said  Alain.  "  What 
will  these  fishmonger  captains  do  with  their  newly 
acquired  power  ?  What  will  that  criminal  Flourens, 
what  will  those  creatures  Assi  and  Delescluze — what 
will  Raoul  Rigault — 

A  voice  from  the  street  broke  in  : 

"  Hey  !  you  officer  up  there  !  " 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  said  de  Carette,  sharply, 
looking  over  the  parapet.  It  was  a  man  in  the  uni 
form  of  a  National  Guard,  swaying  backwards  and 
forwards  on  the  sidewalk,  very  drunk. 

"What  d'  I  want?  I  '11  tell  you,  young  cock-of- 
the-walk  ;  I  want  you  to  und'stand  that  I  am  as  good 
as  you  are,  and  thash  what  I  want." 


112  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


De  Carette  watched  him  closely.  "  There  may  be 
more  of  them,"  he  whispered  to  Landes  ;  "  get  your 
revolver  ready." 

"  Wha'  d'  I  want  ?  Thash  good.  I  'm  a  goin'  to 
tell  you,  my  gold-trimmed  canary  bird.  I  'm  Yssel 
—Jean  Marie  Joseph  Yssel — from  Lorient,  'n  thash 
a  dam  good  place  !  " 

"  Excellent,"  replied  Alain,  and  cocked  his  re 
volver. 

"  Dam  sight  better  'n  Paris  !  " 

"  Dam  sight,"  replied  the  urbane  Captain. 

"  I  'm  Yssel,  Jean  Marie  Joseph  Yssel,  fourth 
comp'ny  266th  battalion,  corporal,  an'  know  a  dam 
sight  more  'n  my  Colonel." 

"  You  are  very  intelligent,"  replied  Alain.  The 
fellow  whipped  out  a  revolver  and  began  firing  in  all 
directions,  accompanying  each  shot  with  unearthly 
whoops. 

"  I  'm  dam  sight  better  'n  the  Colonel,  better  'n 
you,  better  'n  everybody,"  he  yelled,  as  the  racket 
of  his  fusilade  died  away,  and  he  hurled  his  empty 
revolver  across  the  street.  Then  with  a  vinous  smile 
he  sat  down  on  the  steps. 

"  You  're  a  hell  of  a  Captain  !  "  he  observed  to 
de  Carette. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  not  perfect." 

"  No,  you  're  an  ass  !  " 

Alain  and  Landes  had  to  laugh,  and  the  drunkard 
promptly  joined  in.  Then  he  got  up  and  tried  the 
gate. 

"  We  're  three  pretty  good  fellows,"  he  called  up, 
with  a  wink,  "  ain't  we  ?  " 


THE  DRUMS  OF  THE  26$ TH.  113 


"We  are,  indeed,"  replied  Landes,  fervently, 
"  especially  you." 

"  Say — I  like  your  friend,"  bawled  the  soldier  to 
Alain  ;  "  he  's  a  good  fellow,  ain't  he  ?  Lemme  in." 

"  Where  are  your  friends  ?  "  asked  Alain. 

"Ain't  got  no  fren's,"  bawled  the  drunkard,  weep 
ing  and  snuffling.  "Ain't  got  nothin'  nor  nobody  ! 
Lemme  in  !  "  and  he  beat  upon  the  gate  at  the  foot 
of  the  steps. 

"  Where  's  your  battalion  ?  " 

"  Ain't  got  no  battalion." 

"  Yes,  you  have  ;  where  is  it  ?  " 

"  In  h— 1  !      In  Belleville." 

"  They  're  synonymous,"  whispered  Alain  to  Philip. 
"  Are  they  coming  this  way  ?  " 

"  Yes,  guess  so." 

"  When  ?  " 

"  Lemme  in,  Captain,"  pleaded  the  corporal, 
knocking  great  dents  in  his  rifle  barrel  against  the 
gate. 

"  Not  till  you  tell  me  when  your  battalion  is 
coming." 

"  It  's  coming  soon — at  ten  o'clock  'n'  all  's  well  'n' 
I  'm  drunk,"  sang  the  man. 

"Who  's  the  Colonel?" 

"  Colonel  's  a  fool." 

"  Yes — but  what  's  his  name  ?  " 

"  I  said  fool.  Op'n  the  gate.  I  want  to  be 
sociable." 

"  I  mean  his  other  name,"  persisted  Alain,  pa 
tiently. 

"  Wilton, — Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts." 


114  THE  RED  REPUBLIC, 


"  I  know  him,"  whispered  Philip,  excitedly.  "  He  's 
an  American  student,  an  artist,  great  chum  of  Gus- 
tave  Courbet. 

"Ain't  you  goin'  to  lemme  in  ?  "  pleaded  the  cor 
poral,  with  a  final  bang  on  the  gate  which  sent  his 
rifle  into  smithereens. 

"  What  did  you  say  the  Colonel's  name  was  ?  " 

"  Wilton,  a  Yankee  goddam  plom  pudding  rosbiff 
—I  can  tell  you  all  the  officers  of  the  265th,  too,  if  I 
want  to.  I  know  more  'n  anybody,  an'  I  'm  only  a 
poor  d — n  corporal." 

"  What  injustice  !  "  exclaimed  Alain  ;  "  and  who 
are  the  gentlemen  of  the  265th  ?  " 

"  Tribert,  Colonel." 

"  Who  ?  " 

"Antoine  Tribert — an  ass." 

Philip  and  Alain  exchanged  a  slight  glance ;  then 
Landes  said  :  "  Where  is  the  battalion  stationed  ?  " 

"  In  the  rue  des  Rosiers ;  ain't  you  goin'  to 
lemme  in  ?  " 

"Where?" 

"  In  the  rue  des  Rosiers.  Colonel's  headquarters 
in  the  Impasse  de  la  Mort."  Philip  felt  Alain's 
hand  on  his  arm,  but  they  did  not  look  at  one 
another. 

"  Go  on." 

"  Wha'  d'  you  want  to  know  ?  Lemme  in  that 
gate.  Let  's  be  fraternal." 

"  Yes,  all  right.     Does  he  sleep  there?" 

"How  in  helld'  I  know?" 

"  Who  are  his  officers  ?  " 

"  Sarre." 


THE  DRUMS  OF  THE  26$ TH.  115 

"Who?" 

"  Andr£  Sarre,  captain,  Isidor  Weser,  lieutenant, 
aide-de-camp  Pagot — here,  I  'm  not  tellin*  all  I  know, 
an'  I  want  to  get  in  an'  fraternize " 

At  that  moment  the  roll  of  drums  filled  the  rue 
de  Bourgogne,  and  around  the  corner  crept  a  dozen 
soldiers  thrown  out  as  skirmishers.  They  glided 
along  close  to  the  walls,  rifles  poised,  heads  bent 
forward,  while  louder  and  louder  the  drums  rolled 
and  nearer  and  nearer  sounded  the  petulant  bugle. 

"The  first  guard  from  the  Commune,"  whispered 
Alain  ;  "  come." 

They  crossed  the  terrace,  ascended  a  few  steps, 
and,  taking  a  path  through  the  shrubbery,  entered  a 
narrow  alley  which  led  into  a  courtyard.  There  they 
paused. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Alain,  as  they  grasped  each 
other's  hands.  "  This  gate  leads  into  the  rue 
d'Athis,  from  there  I  can  reach  the  St.  Lazare 
station  and  be  in  Versailles  in  about  an  hour.  My 
address  will  be  Vinoy's  staff.  I  have  yours  in  the 
rue  Notre  Dame.  Remember  you  promised  to  keep 
me  informed  if  possible.  Good-bye  once  more, 
Philip,  my  friend." 

And  saying  "  Courage  "  to  each  other  they  parted, 
Alain  passing  through  the  gate  into  the  rue  d'Athis 
and  Philip  taking  an  alley  which  led  to  the  Pont 
Neuf. 

So  they  separated,  with  the  sound  of  the  Com 
mune's  drums  in  their  ears  and  black  foreboding  in 
their  hearts. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA  MORT. 

THE   clock  in  the  Luxembourg  palace  struck 
two  as  Landes  turned  from  the  rue  de  Seine 
into  the  rue  St.  Sulpice.     To  reach  the  rue 
Notre   Dame   he    made    for   the  Place    St.  Sulpice, 
intending  to  cut  across  diagonally  to  the  rue  d'Assas, 
but    his    progress    was    barred    at    the    entrance    of 
the  Place  by  sentinels  of  the  National  Guard  who 
warned  him  back  with  the  sharp  cry,  "  au  large  !  au 
large! " 

Along  the  line  of  sentinels  a  curious  crowd  had 
gathered.  What  they  were  watching  Landes  could 
not  see,  until  he  crossed  the  street.  Here  a  jumble 
of  cabs,  trucks,  and  omnibuses  were  stuck  fast,  for 
bidden  to  proceed,  unable  to  turn  back.  When  he 
stepped  upon  the  sidewalk  and  turned  to  get  a  full 
view  of  the  square  the  matter  was  explained.  Hun 
dreds  of  soldiers  of  the  National  Guard  were  work 
ing  like  beavers  along  the  four  sides  of  the  Place, 
and  already  a  formidable  barricade  of  paving  stones 
had  been  erected.  The  Federals,  rifles,  coats,  and 
cartridge-belts  thrown  aside,  were  attacking  the 
granite  blocks  of  the  pavement  with  pick  and  crow. 
A  bow-legged  officer,  with  red  reverses  to  his 
tunic  and  yards  of  gold  lace  on  sleeve  and  kepi, 

116 


THE   IMPASSE  DE  LA    MORT.  1 1/ 


straddled  up  and  down  the  sidewalk  where  the  men 
were  working  and  where  the  shop  windows  reflected 
his  own  charms.  He  talked  in  a  loud  nasal  voice 
and  divided  his  attention  between  his  reflection  in 
the  windows  and  a  group  of  pretty  shop-girls  who 
were  giggling  on  the  curb. 

"  Won  Uieu  !  qu'il  est  beau  !  "  tittered  a  saucy 
brunette,  "  such  graceful  legs!  " 

"  His  legs  are  Renaissance  architecture — ladies, 
Francois  Premier  !  "  said  a  student  with  a  T-square 
under  one  arm  and  a  drawing-board  under  the 
other. 

The  girls  giggled  until  everybody  in  the  vicinity 
laughed  too. 

"Not  Renaissance, — Moorish!"  put  in  another 
student.  "  Look  at  him  now  as  he  stands — the  rear 
view — a  perfect  Moorish  arch  !  Those  legs,  ladies  ! — 
admire  this  fragment  from  the  Alhambra,  imported 
by  the  government  at  enormous  expense  for  the  in 
struction  of  the  Paris  public  and — 

A  soldier  tried  to  seize  him,  but  he  dodged  and 
mounted  an  omnibus,  from  the  top  of  which  Landes, 
hurrying  away,  heard  him  still  explaining  in  a  loud 
voice  the  priceless  value  of  this  human  gem  of 
Moorish  architecture,  amid  shrieks  of  laughter  from 
the  bystanders. 

"How  can  they  laugh?  How  can  they?"  Philip 
thought,  hastening,  on  toward  the  Luxembourg. 
"  Nobody  but  a  Parisian  would  make  a  jest  of  these 
sinister  preparations." 

He  reached  the  rue  de  Vaugirard  and  started  to 
cross  the  Luxembourg  gardens,  but  again  sentinels 


Il8  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


barred  his  way,  and  again  the  ominous  cry,  "  au 
large  !  au  large  !  "  made  him  halt.  A  hasty  glance 
across  the  dead  lirie  showed  that  the  gardens  were 
alive  with  Federal  troops,  mostly  infantry  of  the 
National  Guard. 

Forced  to  make  the  long  detour  by  the  rue 
d'Assas,  he  hastened  on,  passing  more  Federals  in 
the  rue  de  Luxembourg,  and  a  partly  built  barri 
cade  at  the  junction  of  the  rue  de  Fleurus  ;  and  at 
last  he  passed  through  the  rue  Vavin  and  the  rue 
Notre  Dame  to  his  own  studio. 

Joseph,  his  concierge,  open  critic  and  secret  ad 
mirer,  stood  at  the  gate  of  the  long  ivy-covered 
alley  which  led  to  the  studio.  The  sight  of  him  did 
Philip  good. 

After  the  horrors  of  the  Place  Pigalle,  the  slaugh 
ter  in  the  rue  des  Rosiers,  after  what  seemed  years 
of  absence  in  a  land  of  nightmares,  this  home-com 
ing  moved  him  deeply.  He  could  have  embraced 
Joseph  in  his  blue  blouse — but  he  merely  said : 

"  Well,  Joseph,  here  I  am  and  glad  to  be  here.  It 
seems  as  if  I  had  been  away  a  long  time." 

"Three  days,  Monsieur  Landes,"  replied  Joseph, 
in  sepulchral  tones.  There  was  accusation  in  his 
eyes  and  a  pained  expression  about  his  mouth. 

"  Is  all  well  ?  "  inquired  Philip,  perfectly  aware  of 
what  was  coming. 

Joseph  raised  an  appealing  hand  to  Heaven,  then 
with  eyes  turned  in  the  same  direction  he  wailed 
aloud  : 

"  Is  all  well  ?  Monsieur  asks  me  if  all  is  well ! 
Three  days  and  nights  has  Monsieur  absented  him- 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA   MORT.  119 


self,  with  Monsieur's  gay  friends,  never  leaving  me, 
his  concierge  true  and  faithful,  any  sign  or  word.  It 
is  the  same  to  Monsieur  that  I  pass  my  nights  in 
anxious  watching,  that  I  run  hither  and  thither,  fear 
ing  lest  harm  has  befallen  Monsieur  ;  it  is  the  same  to 
him,  that  I,  alarmed  for  his  safety,  fly  to  the  morgue 
and  to  the  police  with  cries  of  fright, — and  my  toe 
too  lame  to  wear  a  sabot ! — and  my  gout  which 
protests  ! " 

"  I  'm  sorry,  Joseph,  but  I  could  not  help  it.  This 
was  no  escapade." 

Joseph  fixed  his  gaze  on  his  mop  which  was  lying 
near  the  gutter,  and  still  refusing  to  notice  Philip, 
addressed  it  in  impassioned  strains,  gesticulating 
wildly  : 

"  Monsieur  has  no  regard  for  his  Joseph,  faithful  and 
diligent.  Monsieur  deigns  to  send  no  word  which 
might  calm  and  comfort.  No !  Monsieur  sends 
only  a  basket  of  dogs  and  cats — howling  cats,  which 
sit  and  make  enormous  eyes  at  one." 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Philip,  "  did  the  trooper  bring  the 
cat  and  the  puppy  ?  " 

Then  at  last  Joseph  addressed  him  directly. 

"  Monsieur  Philip,  the  puppy  is  biting  holes  in 
everything  within  the  studio,  and  the  cat  claws  the 
bark  from  the  almond  tree  and  ruins  the  rose  bushes. 
Yet  for  Monsieur's  sake  I  have  been  kind  to  the 
animals." 

"  Of  course  you  have,  Joseph.     You  're  a  jewel." 

He  had  passed  down  the  ivy-covered  alley,  Joseph 
at  his  heels,  crossed  the  little  garden,  and  now  he 
stood  in  the  doorway  of  the  rear  building  where  the 


I2O  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


studio  was.  An  irregular  quadrangle  of  house  and 
garden  walls  enclosed  the  peaceful  little  court,  roofs 
and  gables  of  different  heights  rose  around  it  against 
a  fair  spring  sky.  A  mossy  fountain  was  in  the  mid 
dle,  bordered  by  almond  trees  and  rose  bushes. 
Philip  looked  kindly  at  the  concierge,  and  repeated  : 

"  You  are  a  jewel,  Joseph."  The  faithful  one  con 
cealed  his  pleasure  and  rubbed  his  nose  pensively. 

"  Did  Monsieur  receive  his  clothes  ?  " 

"  Yes,  thank  you.  Now,  get  my  bath  ready  and 
I  want  something  to  eat — anything — I  'm  going  out 
again  presently." 

"  To  stay  three  days  more  ?  " 

"  No — no.     Has  Monsieur  Ellice  been  here  ?  " 

"  Five  times,  in  anguish  !  " 

"  Anyone  else  ?  " 

"  A  lady — Mademoiselle  Faustine  Courtois  this 
morning.  She  will  return  again  to-day  :  she  said  so." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  " 

"  A  soldier  came  from  the  Luxembourg  two  days 
ago.  He  requested  Monsieur  to  go  at  once  to  the 
Palace " 

"  A  soldier  ?  " 

"  A  dragoon.  He  said  to  tell  Monsieur  there  was 
bad  news  from  the  Place  Pigalle.  I  did  n't  know 
what  he  meant,"  added  Joseph,  tentatively,  but 
Philip  only  answered  : 

"  Ah — well !  My  bath  now, — and  something  to 
eat  as  soon  as  you  can  get  it."  He  turned  into  the 
hallway  and  fitted  a  key  into  the  first  door  on  the 
left. 

When  he  entered  his  studio  the  setter  puppy  left 


THE   IMPASSE   DE   LA   MOR7'.  121 


the  hole  in  the  panther  skin  which  he  had  been 
patiently  enlarging,  and  looked  up  with  both  ears 
cocked  forward.  Philip  called  him  gently,  and  the 
little  creature  dashed  enthusiastically  into  his  arms. 
The  cat  also  remembered  him,  and  rising  from  the 
cushioned  divan,  opened  her  great  emerald  eyes, 
stretched,  yawned,  and  began  to  purr.  Lifting  her, 
Philip  sat  down  on  the  divan  and  gathered  them 
both  into  his  lap.  Then  in  the  pleasant  stillness  of 
the  familiar  and  sheltered  room,  homeless  Jeanne 
de  Brassac  came  and  took  entire  possession  of  his 
thoughts,  and  his  brain  went  on  working  at  the 
problem  of  her  rescue,  as  it  had  not  ceased  to  do 
since  he  stumbled  into  the  apartment  of  the  Hotel 
Perret.  In  all  the  grim  horrors  of  the  rue  des  Ro- 
siers,  in  the  turmoil  of  the  Place  Pigalle,  and  the 
sinister  silence  of  the  deserted  War  Ministry,  his 
thoughts  for  her  had  scarcely  suffered  interruption. 
Amid  the  infernal  clamor  of  the  Chateau  Rouge — 
the  sickening  confusion,  violence,  and  cruelty — the 
horror  and  dread  of  death,  her  face  was  always  be 
fore  him,  and  his  distressed  heartbeats  spelled  out 
her  name.  And  now  he  sat  with  her  pets  in  his 
arms  and  pondered  the  almost  hopeless  problem  of 
her  rescue. 

The  police  had  been  driven  from  the  city,  the  gar 
rison  at  the  Luxembourg  had  fled  to  Versailles,  no 
body  was  left  to  whom  he  could  go  for  aid  or  even 
for  advice.  And  he  himself,  a  marked  man,  could 
easily  involve  her  in  worse  danger  still  by  a  wrong 
move.  Moreover,  the  thought  of  lying  under  a  dead 
wall,  with  a  handkerchief  over  his  eyes,  and  twelve 


122  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


bullets  of  the  265th  battalion  in  his  body,  had  small 
charms  for  him. 

Well,  it  appeared  that  he  must  find  Jeanne  de 
Brassac  alone,  if  at  all.  He  could  not  think  of  a 
soul  in  all  Paris  to  help  him.  Yes,  there  was  one — 
Faustine  Courtois,  she  might  be  useful,  through  her 
relations  with  Tribert.  But  how?  that  was  far  from 
clear.  The  only  thing  certain  was  that  he  could 
trust  her.  It  never  entered  his  mind  to  doubt  Faus 
tine, — and  she  had  been  seeking  him  already  to-day. 
And  she  was  coming  back  before  evening, — he  would 
wait  till  she  came. 

Joseph  entered  and  said  the  bath  was  ready,  and 
luncheon  would  be  served  in  half  an  hour,  so  with 
out  more  delay  Landes  tumbled  his  four-footed 
wards  in  a  heap  together  on  the  divan  and  went  into 
his  bedroom. 

When  he  came  out  again  into  the  studio,  fresh 
and  hungry,  a  small  table  was  laid  and  Joseph  was 
already  placing  the  omelet  upon  it.  The  Bordeaux 
was  good,  the  linen  was  white,  the  pretty  china  and 
silver  were  bright.  The  cat  and  puppy  invited  them 
selves  at  once,  and  Philip  did  the  honors  with  a  bowl 
of  milk.  He  finished  soon.  Joseph  set  his  coffee 
beside  the  divan,  he  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  threw, 
himself  down  there  to  wait  for  Faustine. 

A  glass  extension  was  built  out  from  the  studio 
into  the  garden.  The  afternoon  sun  shone  down  the 
alley  across  the  court,  and  a  broad  patch  of  sunlight 
fell  through  the  glass  on  the  floor  of  the  studio. 
The  cat  sat  blinking  in  the  middle  of  it,  occasion 
ally  twisting  to  polish  her  back  with  her  pink  tongue. 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA   MORT.  12$ 


The  puppy  returned  to  the  hole  in  the  panther  skin, 
but  after  a  few  mouthfuls  settled  down  quietly  and 
thought, — planning  other  and  more  important  holes 
in  more  valuable  property  of  the  studio  for  future 
industry. 

From  where  Landes  was  lying  he  could  see  the 
garden.  He  had  noticed  as  he  came  in  that  the 
almond  tree  and  lilac  bushes  were  covered  with  buds, 
and  had  marked  the  tender  amber-colored  shoots 
from  the  thorn-covered  branches  of  the  roses.  As 
he  rested  now  idly  among  the  cushions,  the  sunshine 
was  warm  and  soothing,  and  a  breeze  blew  through 
an  open  window  in  soft  aromatic  puffs.  A  shadow 
fell  across  the  glass  roof ;  there  was  a  flirt  and  a 
flash  of  sun-tipped  wings,  and  then  a  burst  of  liquid 
melody  from  the  almond  tree  by  the  fountain. 
Landes  sat  up  and  listened  ;  the  cat  also  raised  her 
head  and  her  splendid  eyes  sparkled. 

"  The  first  blackbird,"  said  Landes,  rising  and 
going  to  the  open  door.  There  sat  the  vocalist 
ruffling  his  velvety  black  plumage,  preening  an  un 
satisfactory  feather  here  and  there  with  his  bright 
yellow  bill.  The  cat  followed  Landes  and  promptly 
began  to  stalk  the  bird,  but  Philip  put  a  stop  to  that 
and  sat  down  on  the  doorstep  in  the  full  glow  of  the 
sun  pouring  down  the  ivy-covered  alley.  The  gravel 
walks  and  moist  flower-beds  smelled  of  spring,  the 
little  circular  stone  basin  of  the  fountain  reflected  a 
faint  green  of  awakening  water  vegetation,  and  two 
cynical  goldfish,  who  lived  among  the  rocks  at  the 
bottom,  came  out  and  floated  near  the  surface,  wav 
ing  their  fins. 


124  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Philip  felt  in  his  pocket  and  drew  out  the  crumpled 
paper  which  he  had  surprised  Georgias  writing  in  the 
Place  Pigalle.  For  the  hundredth  time  he  read  the 
few  lines  : 

"  Mon  Cher  Raoul :  If  you  think  that  the  Im 
passe  is  safe  enough  Tribert  can  hold  the  bird  there 

until "  here  the  letter  had  been  interrupted  by 

his  own  sudden  entrance.  Until  the  drunken  cor 
poral  came  under  the  terrace  of  the  War  Ministry 
the  word  "  Impasse  "  might  have  meant  any  of  the 
countless  alleys  which  lay  hidden  in  older  Paris,  but 
now  he  knew  it  meant  the  "  Impasse  de  la  Mort," 
Tribert's  headquarters,  a  narrow  unpaved  cul-de-sac 
which  branched  at  right  angles  from  the  Faubourg 
du  Temple  just  above  the  Canal  St.  Martin.  Possi 
bly  one  Parisian  in  a  thousand  had  ever  heard  of  it. 
Landes  knew  it,  because  his  little  model,  Sara  Lalo, 
lived  there.  One  day,  when  her  drunken  father  had 
nearly  killed  her,  Philip  had  gone  thither  to  give  him 
a  bit  of  advice. 

The  rest  of  the  letter  was  simple  as  far  as  it  went ; 
the  "  bird  "  meant  Jeanne  de  Brassac  of  course.  As 
he  looked  down  at  the  letter  and  thought  of  the  child 
in  that  vile  den,  in  the  power  of  those  criminals,  an 
impulse  to  rush  off  and  tear  her  out  of  their  hands 
shook  him.  But  of  course  that  passed,  and  left  him 
feeling  more  helpless  than  before.  Could  the  model 
be  of  use  ?  How  could  he  get  word  to  her  ?  Days 
might  be  wasted  in  that  attempt,  and  then,  how  did 
he  know  that  he  could  trust  her  ?  Thrown  back 
once  more  upon  Faustine  Courtois,  he  began  to 
watch  impatiently  for  her  coming.  The  afternoon 


THE  IMPASSE   DE  LA    MORT.  12$ 


vvas  passing,  the  lights  growing  longer  and  longer, 
— she  must  come  soon.  And  sure  enough  in  a  few 
moments  the  gate  opened  without  any  ring, — trust 
Joseph  for  being  on  the  watch, — steps  came  down  the 
alley,  and  Faustine  entered  the  garden. 

With  a  gesture  of  welcome,  Landes  rose  and  mo 
tioned  her  into  the  studio,  following,  and  closing  the 
door. 

The  girl  stood  before  him  quiet  and  pale.  He 
noted  the  strained  expression  of  her  eyes,  the  worn, 
almost  sunken  look  of  her  cheeks  and  temples. 
They  seemed  to  him  so  many  signs  of  her  partici 
pation  in  the  violence  of  the  past  three  days.  He 
eyed  the  knot  of  red  ribbon  on  her  breast,  and  could 
not  restrain  his  anger. 

"  Well,"  he  said  curtly. 

"  Well,  Monsieur  Philip — so  you  are  safe." 

"  Never  mind  me,"  he  answered  harshly.  "  I  want 
to  know  what  you  are  wearing  that  thing  for.  Are 
you  proud  of  your  murders,  and  your  anarchy  ? 
Were  you  content  with  the  cowardly  foot-pad  as 
sassination  of  the  old  Count  de  Brassac  ?  God  !  If 
I  had  known  you  were  such  a  girl  as  that  !  " 

"  You  are  very  hard,"  she  answered,  with  white 
lips.  "  We  have  been  such  good  friends." 

"  We  never  would  have  been  if  I  had  not  thought 
you  a  kind,  harmless  girl." 

"  Kind  !  Harmless  !  "  she  flashed  out.  "  You  be 
gin  to  tire  me,  Monsieur.  Who  sings  of  kindness  in 
these  days?" 

"  Not  you  and  your  friends,  it  appears.  The 
chorus  of  the  Commune  is  'Murder  and  Ruin  Ruin 


126  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


and  Murder.'  I  hope  you  like  it.  It 's  a  nice  song 
for  a  woman  !  " 

"You  shall  not  charge  crimes  on  the  Commune 
for  which  it  is  not  to  blame!  " 

"  Who  is  to  blame  then  ?  "  She  was  silent.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  tell  me  the  Commune  did  not  authorize 
the  crimes  on  Montmartre?" 

"  The  barricades,  the  struggle  for  liberty, — yes." 

"  The  attack  on  the  troops !  Why  did  the  mob 
attack  the  troops?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Why  did  Thiers  try  to  steal  our  cannon  ?  " 

"  Why  did  the  Commune  slaughter  the  prisoners 
in  the  rue  des  Rosiers?" 

"  It  did  not !  The  Commune  did  not  !  "  she  cried 
passionately.  "  It  wanted  to  prevent  those  murders. 
It  has  been  betrayed  by  criminals  who  use  its  name 
to  cloak  their  crimes!  " 

"  And  the  Central  Committee,  for  what  is  that  a 
cloak?  Where  was  it  at  the  Chateau  Rouge,  in  the 
rue  des  Rosiers?  What  is  it?  A  shade?  A  pre 
tence?  A  cloak,  as  you  say, — but  for  the  Com 
mune's  crimes!  " 

"Ah!  mon  ami,  you  are  wrong.  The  Central 
Committee  is  composed  of  patriots.  It  has  decreed 
the  city  elections.  They  will  take  place  peacefully. 
Then  the  Committee  will  retire,  and  leave  Paris  to 
be  governed  by  the  men  of  her  own  choosing — 

"  In  the  meanwhile  throwing  up  a  few  barri 
cades." 

"  Certainly  ;  and  arming  the  forts  and  enceintes," 
she  said,  coolly  ignoring  his  sarcasm. 

Landes  watched  her,  dismayed.     This  child  !     It 


THE   IMPASSE  DE   LA    MORT.  I2/ 


seemed  impossible  that  she  could  understand  the 
horror  of  what  she  defended,  the  true  meaning  of 
her  own  prattle  about  forts  and  barricades. 

"  Faustine,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  Com 
mune  did  not  countenance  the  murders  on  Mont- 
martre?  " 

"Yes." 

"  But  the  Central  Committee  was  there — if  it  was 
anywhere.  Word  was  continually  coming  that  it 
would  sit  here — convene  there,  and  we  were  dragged 
about  to  find  it." 

"You?"  she  interrupted,  turning  still  whiter. 
He  put  her  question  aside  with  an  impatient 
gesture. 

"What  then  is  the  Central  Committee?  Is  it  an 
empty  name  for  something  else  to  hide  behind?" 

"  No  !  "  she  cried  indignantly. 

"  Then"  he  broke  out,  angry  at  her  evasion,  "  it  is 
the  Commune  !  " 

"  If  you  like,"  she  answered  sullenly.  He  saw  his 
mistake.  It  was  the  first  time  Faustine  had  ever 
spoken  to  him  in  that  tone.  All  his  hopes  depended 
on  the  girl,  and  here  he  was  on  the  verge  of  a  quarrel 
with  her.  He  took  her  hand,  and  said  gently  : 

"My  poor  Faustine!  Do  you  like  to  see  your 
city  running  stark  mad  ?  Does  one  love  liberty,  and 
close  the  streets  with  bayonets?  Does  one  inaugu 
rate  a  Republic  with  murder  and  theft  ?  That 
blood-colored  thing  you  wear  on  your  jacket,  is  it 
the  symbol  of  the  Commune  ?  Then  it  is  the  sym 
bol  of  ignorance,  brutality,  and  cruelty.  And  you 
wear  it !  " 


128  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Yes — I  wear  it."  There  was  a  pause — and  she 
added  through  her  set  teeth,  "  while  there  are  rebels 
and  traitors  at  Versailles." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  legal  government?" 

"  That  is  what  they  call  themselves.  Savage 
royalists  and  imperialists !  They  want  to  bring 
France  under  the  yoke  again.  Do  you  think  they 
can  return?  We  will  blow  up  the  city  first !  "  Her 
eyes  flamed  feverishly,  her  cheeks  were  crimson. 

Deep  pity  replaced  every  other  feeling  as  Landes 
watched  this  slender  child,  his  playmate  yesterday  ^ 
shaken  by  passions  too  fierce  for  her  strength.  He 
drew  her  to  a  seat  on  the  divan  beside  him. 

"  Listen,  Faustine.  We  are,  as  you  say,  old 
friends  and  comrades.  Until  this  cursed  outbreak 
nothing  ever  threatened  our  good  understanding. 
Is  it  so  long  since  we  shared  the  miseries  of  the  siege 
together  ?  I  know  you — you  are  upright  and  truth 
ful  by  nature.  You  used  to  be  incapable  of  a  base 
action.  Are  you  changed  ?  I  do  not  believe  it,  in 
spite  of  all  you  say." 

Her  face  had  been  softening  while  he  spoke,  and 
now  tears  filled  her  eyes. 

"  I  want  you  to  see  where  you  are  going,  whose 
lead  you  are  following.  Loyal  to  your  friends,  how 
can  you  be  unfaithful  to  your  country  ?  " 

"  I  would  die  very  gladly  for  my  country,"  she 
said,  without  affectation. 

"I  believe  it,  and  yet  living  you  give  your  aid  to 
those  who  will  disgrace  and  ruin  her."  She  re 
mained  silent,  looking  down,  the  tears  dropping  into 
her  lap.  "  Tribert,  Sarre,  Georgias,  you  approve  of 
them  and  their  crimes?  "  She  began  to  tremble. 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA   MORT.  129 


"  Oh  !  They  are  vile  ! — Monsieur  Philip  !  I  do 
not  approve  of  them!  " 

"Yet  they  are  officers  in  one  of  the  Commune's 
battalions." 

"  They  will  be  denounced  all  the  same,  when  the 
time  comes  !  " 

"  And  until  it  comes  they  may  rob  and  murder 
with  impunity.  Is  that  your  idea  of  a  good  govern 
ment,  Faustine  ?  "  He  spoke  almost  tenderly,  as  to  a 
child.  She  thrilled  at  the  change  in  his  voice  and 
manner,  looked  up  quickly,  met  only  the  firm  kind 
ness  of  his  eyes,  and  broke  into  hopeless  weeping. 

"  It  must  be  so,"  she  .  ~>bbed. 

Landes,  seeing  her  softened,  took  one  of  her 
hands  in  his,  and  began  the  story  of  the  last  three 
days.  He  did  not  spare  her  a  single  harrowing  de 
tail,  and  when  he  had  finished  she  looked  like  death. 
The  moment  had  come  to  enlist  her  aid,  and  he 
made  his  request.  His  account  had  included  the 
murder  of  Count  de  Brassac,  the  events  in  the  Place 
Pigalle,  Georgias*  letter,  and  the  revelations  of  the 
drunken  corporal.  She  was  the  kind  of  girl  to  un 
derstand  that  he  was  bound  to  find  Jeanne  de  Bras- 
sac,  and  he  made  his  appeal  quite  simply. 

"  Help  me  to  carry  out  my  plan,  Faustine.  I 
don't  know  which  way  to  turn.  You  see  I  'm  a 
marked  man  myself." 

Faustine's  eyes  were  dry.  She  drew  her  hand 
away  from  Philip's  friendly  clasp,  and  sat  up,  look 
ing  him  steadily  in  the  face. 

"  I  will  help  you  to  find  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac, 
if  I  can.  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 


130  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"Get  me  a  uniform  of  the  265th  and  a  pass,  or 
the  countersign." 

"  I  will  get  you  the  countersign,  and  two  uni 
forms — you  must  not  go  alone.  Take  Monsieur 
Ellice  with  you." 

"  The  very  thing !  Jack  would  go  !  Will  you  do 
that  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  When  ?  " 

"  Now." 

"You  dear  girl!"  he  cried,  and  slipped  his  arm 
about  her  waist.  She  jumped  up,  crimson  with  anger. 

"  How  dare  you  !  "  She  threw  herself  into  a  chair, 
sobbing  bitterly  again,  her  back  turned  to  him,  her 
head  on  her  slender  wrist. 

"  I  meant  nothing,"  protested  Philip. 

"  I  know  it.  Nothing  !  Yet  you  think  I  should 
endure  your  caresses  because  I  was  a  girl  of  the 
Quartier  Latin." 

"  Upon  my  honor  I  never  thought  anything  of 
the  kind,"  he  cried.  "  I  only  thought  you  were  the 
most  generous  girl  in  the  world — and  the  truest 
comrade.  I  never  asked  a  kindness  of  you  yet  that 
you  did  not  grant  it,  no  matter  at  what  inconven 
ience  to  yourself.  There  is  no  one  alive  that  I  would 
treat  with  more  sincere  respect  than  you,  Faustine." 

"  A  la  bonheur  !  "  she  laughed  nervously,  jumping 
up  with  another  of  her  rapid  changes.  "  Say  no 
more  about  it.  I  shall  go  now  and  get  you  your 
two  uniforms.  Look  for  them  within  an  hour.  I 
shall  find  some  means  of  getting  them  into  Joseph's 
hands  unobserved."  She  was  moving  away  with  a 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA   MORT.  131 


cool  business-like  air,  but  when  she  reached  the  door" 
she  turned  back  and  met  Philip,  who  was  hurrying 
to  open  it  for  her. 

"  Dieu  vous  garde,"  she  said,  looking  up  into  his 
face,  "  and  do  not  forget  that  sinful  souls  are  puri 
fied  by  love." 

"  You  are  better  than  I,"  he  stammered,  much 
distressed. 

"  Am  I  ?  '  she  said  bitterly,  with  another  swift 
change.  "  But  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  is  good  !  " 
All  that  was  visible  of  her  cheek — which  had  grown 
very  thin, — of  her  slender  neck,  burned  crimson  as 
she  hurried  through  the  open  door  and  out  across 
the  garden.  At  the  entrance  to  the  alley  Philip 
heard  her  exchange  a  few  hasty  words  with  some 
one- — and  the  next  moment  Jack  Ellice  rushed  into 
the  studio. 

"  By  Jove  !  There  you  are  !  Faustine  says  you  Ve 
been  on  Montmartre.  She  says  you  want  me." 

"  Yes,  I  want  your  help.  But  first  I  want  the 
news — sit  down  and  tell  me  the  situation." 

"  The  news  is  infernally  bad — and  the  situation  is 
damned  disagreeable." 

"  Yes.  I  know  that  much.  I  want  particulars — 
afterward  I  '11  tell  you  the  same  story  from  my  side." 

"  Well,  first  of  all,  your  friend  of  the  Cafe  Cardinal, 
Raoul  Rigault,  is  Prefet  of  Police  and  Procureur 
General  to  the  Commune." 

"  Good  Lord  !  " 

"  That 's  what  I  said  when  I  read  their  infernal 
order  stuck  up  on  a  bulletin  at  the  Mayor's  office  in 
the  rue  Bonaparte." 


I32  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Order  of  the  Central  Committee  ?  " 

"  Of  the  Central  Committee.  That  's  awkward 
for  you,  Philip." 

"  You  '11  say  so  when  you  hear  what  I  have  to  tell 
you.  But — that  young  Latin-Quarter  student — he  's 
younger  than  you  are." 

"  No.     He  's  twenty-eight." 

"  Well,  he  's  a  failure  in  everything — in  law — in 
medicine — and  he  's  just  failed  again  at  the  Poly- 
technique.  A  nobody,  without  talent.  How  did  he 
get  the  appointment?  " 

"  I  suppose  by  being  the  biggest  blackguard  of 
the  lot.  Anyway  there  he  is,  and  a  full-fledged 
demagogue  already.  Takes  Marat  openly  for  his 
model." 

"  Does  he  dare,  so  soon  ?  " 

"I  should  think  so.  The  whole  Commune  is  mad 
over  the  First  Revolution.  Their  orators  praise 
Robespierre.  You  are  not  in  1871,  you  are  in  the 
year  79  of  liberty,  and  next  month  will  not  be  April, 
but  Germinal.  They  have  seized  the  'Official,'  and 
are  running  it  to  suit  themselves.  All  the  papers 
suppressed  by  Thiers  have  been  revived.  All  the 
others  have  been  shut  up  tight.  And — this  is  what 
looks  blackest  of  all,"  said  Ellice,  dropping  his 
voice — "  to-day  posters  are  on  every  wall  in  Paris 
decreeing  the  appointment  of  the  Committee  of 
Public  Safety,  and  reviving  the  Law  of  Suspects." 

"  The  Reign  of  Terror  !  " 

"  That 's  what  we  're  headed  for  unless  something 
stops  us.  But  it  can't  go  on,  you  know.  The  people 
must  get  scared  by  this  last  performance.  Well,  and 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA    MORT.  133 


now  about  yourself.  What  do  you  want  of  me? 
How  did  you  get  up  on  Montmartre,  and — how  did 
you  get  down  ?  "  added  Jack,  with  a  laugh  that  tried 
to  be  like  his  old  laughs.  Then  Landes  began  from 
their  parting  in  front  of  the  Cafe  Ferdinand,  and 
told  the  story  of  the  past  three  days. 

As  an  adviser  Jack  Ellice  had  not  many  original 
ideas,  but  as  a  confidant  he  was  perfect.  He  listened 
with  increasing  excitement,  and  jumped  eagerly  at 
the  expedition  to  the  Impasse  de  la  Mort. 

"As  for  plans,"  ended  Philip,  "how  can  I  make 
any  ?  I  Ve  been  over  the  whole  ground  by  myself 
twenty  times.  Last  night  I  went  over  it  with  de 
Carette,  carefully.  He  has  the  clear  head  of  a 
Frenchman.  Nothing  escapes  him,  and  his  conclu 
sion  was  the  same  as  my  own.  There  is  not  a  peg 
to  hang  a  hope  of  assistance  upon — there  is  nothing 
to  indicate  one  line  of  action  more  than  another. 
All  must  be  left  to  chance.  And  the  chances  are 
against  us.  Every  new  development  makes  the  con 
fusion  greater.  It  seemed  bad  enough  when  we 
thought  we  had  the  government  and  the  police  be 
hind  us.  It  seemed  worse  when  we  found  that  the 
bottom  had  dropped  out  of  the  government.  And 
now  you  tell  me  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  is 
the  government,  and  Raoul  Rigault  is  the  police  J 
I  am  Jeanne  de  Brassac's  only  protector  at  this 
crisis — and  I  am  a  marked  man  to  the  criminals  who 
have  her  in  their  power.  And  the  same  criminals 
are  in  the  chief  places  of  the  city  government.  If  I 
find  her  and  am  so  fortunate  as  to  get  her  out  of 
Tribert's  clutches,  where  shall  I  take  her?  She 


134  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


ought  to  be  on  the  road  to  Chartres  within  an  hour. 
Failing  that,  she  must  hide,  till  she  can  get  away. 
Hide  where?  I  don't  know  a  soul  I  dare  ask  to  re 
ceive  her.  From  something  her  father  said  I  fancy 
they  have  n't  many  friends  in  Paris,  and  those  they 
had  will  be  scattered,  no  doubt — fled  after  the  gov 
ernment  and  the  army  to  Versailles." 

"  Perhaps  she  will  know  some  one,  though,"  said 
Jack.  "  Any  woman,  faithful  and  respectable  and 
within  reach,  would  be  a  god-send, — wait — would  n't 
Joseph's  wife  do  at  a  pinch." 

"  Joseph  sent  his  family  into  the  country  to-day." 

"The  devil!" 

"  Well,  there  it  is — suppose  we  do  find  Jeanne  de 
Brassac  to-night,  for  instance,  in  the  Impasse  de  la 
Mort.  Suppose  we  do  effect  her  escape.  We  shall 
have  to  run  for  it,  probably.  Suppose  we  fail  to 
reach  the  station, — it  's  coming  from  away  over  the 
other  side  of  the  river  to  the  Gare  Montparnasse." 

"  It  is  n't  guarded,"  said  Ellice. 

"  Anything  may  happen  to  head  us  off — suppose 
we  fail  then  to  reach  the  station?" 

"  We  must  n't  fail  to  reach  the  station,  that 's  all." 

They  sat  and  thought  awhile.     Then  Jack  said  : 

"  I  think  it  behooves  you,  on  your  own  account, 
to  communicate  with  the  American  Minister  as  soon 
as  possible — you  can't  tell  what  nasty  trick  those 
fellows  may  play  you." 

"  Yes,  with  the  house-to-house  search  going  on, 
and  the  guillotine  working  gaily  in  every  square, 
and  Raoul  Rigault  yearning  to  see  my  head  in  a 
basket  of  sawdust " 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA   MORT.  135 


"  Oh,  come !    What 's  the  sense  of  being  ghastly  !  " 

'•  I  feel  ghastly.  Your  news  has  made  me  creep. 
I  feel  queer  and  strange  as  I  used  when  I  was  a  boy 
and  saw  a  picture  of  an  Incroyable.  There  was  al 
ways,  for  me,  something  so  grotesque  and  bizarre, 
so  hideously  fascinating  in  the  Directoire  costume; 
— it  made  me  think  of  bloody  heads  on  pikes." 

Jack  burst  out  laughing. 

"By  Jove!  you  are  rattled!  Wake  up!  What 
do  you  see?  Is  that  a  photograph  of  General  Grant 
on  the  piano  ?  Is  this  a  copy  of  the  '  New  York 
Herald  '  with  advertisements  of  A.  T.  Stewart  &  Co.  ? 
Is  n't  there  almost  a  century  between  us  and  the 
Reign  of  Terror?" 

There  came  a  low  knocking  at  the  door. 

"  Listen,"  whispered  Landes,  "  what  does  that 
mean?  There  's  a  bell  outside.  No  one  ever  knocks." 

They  waited,  silent.  The  knocking  came  again, 
low  and  persistent. 

"  I  can  't  understand,"  murmured  Landes  in  Jack's 
ear,  "  how  Joseph  could  let  in  any  one  whom  he 
did  n't  know." 

For  the  third  time  the  knocking  began,  low,  dis 
tinct,  imperative. 

Landes  walked  to  the  door  and  flung  it  open.  A 
little  sallow  man,  all  in  black  save  for  a  crimson  sash 
across  his  breast,  stepped  noiselessly  into  the  room, 
without  removing  his  hat.  Two  soldiers  of  the  Na 
tional  Guard  started  to  follow  him  in,  but  he  mo 
tioned  them  out  again,  and  closed  the  door  softly 
behind  him.  Then  in  a  colorless,  husky  voice  he 
demanded  to  see  the  proprietor  of  the  apartment. 


136  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

"  I  am  the  locataire,"  said  Landes,  with  a  dull, 
oppressive  weight  in  his  heart.  "  What  do  you  want, 
and  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  citizen  Verlet,  charged  by  the  Chief  of 
Police  to  arrest  one  Henri  Marsy,  suspect  of  the 
Commune.  What  is  your  name?" 

"  Philip  Landes,  artist." 

"  And  this  gentleman  ?  "  looking  at  Ellice. 

"  John  D.  Ellice,  artist." 

"  Who  is  your  neighbor  in  the  studio  opposite  ?  " 

"  Moreau  Gauthier,  sculptor,"  said  Landes.  "  Mr. 
Ellice  does  not  live  here.  Kindly  address  yourself 
to  me." 

"  I  will  address  myself  to  whom  I  choose,"  replied 
the  little  man  in  passionless  tones.  "  Who  lives  in 
the  next  studio  beyond  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Landes,  lying  deliberately — 
for  he  did  know  that  Henri  Marsy  lived  there.  So 
did  Jack,  and  immediately  had  an  inspiration. 

"  Well,  good-bye,  Philip,"  he  said,  shaking  hands 
with  Landes,  and  giving  him  a  knowing  squeeze. 
"  I  '11  see  you  to-morrow  then."  He  started  for 
the  door.  The  little  man  locked  it  and  put  the  key 
in  his  pocket. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that ! "  cried  Landes, 
angrily. 

"  This  gentleman  must  not  leave  for  the  present. 
I  am  going  to  search  your  apartment." 

"  No,  you  are  not,"  broke  in  Philip. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Commune " 

"  I  don't  care  a  damn  in  whose  name ! "  cried 
Landes,  trembling  with  wrath.  "  Get  out  of  my 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA    MORT.  137 


place ! "  He  started  toward  the  sallow  man,  but 
the  delegate  from  the  Commune  was  too  quick  for 
him.  Unlocking  the  door,  he  beckoned  the  soldiers. 

"  Search  is  refused,"  he  said  impassively ;  "  fire,  if 
further  resistance  is  offered." 

"  Try  it,  you  crop-eared  ragamuffins  !  "  shouted 
Landes,  white  with  fury.  Snatching  an  American 
flag  from  the  wall  he  flung  it  over  the  chandelier. 

"  Do  you  see  that  flag  ?  Do  you  see  me  standing 
under  it?  That  is  my  flag.  This  is  United  States 
ground.  Outrage  it  or  me  if  you  dare  !  " 

The  delegate  from  the  Commune  turned  a  shade 
more  sallow,  and  stared  at  the  flag. 

"  The  American  Minister  shall  know  about  this 
to-morrow,"  said  Ellice,  gravely.  "  I  must  request 
your  name  again — what  was  it — Varlet  ?  Oh,  Ver- 
let." 

Citizen  Verlet  grew  pale,  and  stepped  back.  He 
knew  nothing  about  alien  rights,  and  he  meant  to 
conceal  his  ignorance  if  he  could.  The  soldiers  eyed 
the  flag  stupidly,  and  fingered  their  rifles.  After  a 
moment  Verlet  took  off  his  hat,  and  bowed  to  Landes. 

"  It  is  a  mistake  ;  formal  search  will  not  be  neces 
sary.  No  insult  to  your  country  was  intended,  and 
I  hope  the  incident  may  be  dropped." 

Ellice  saw  his  chance,  and  stalked  furiously  out  of 
the  open  door,  demanding  a  cab  to  take  him  to  the 
United  States  Ministry. 

"  I  hope  your  friend  will  not  insist  upon  the  un 
fortunate  features  of  this  mistake.  I  hope  he  will 
not  go  to  his  Excellency,  the  United  States  Minis- 
ter,"  the  delegate  said,  very  humbly. 


138  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Philip  began  a  long-winded  discourse  upon  the  in 
violability  of  American  citizens,  international  treaties, 
and  alien  rights,  about  which  he  knew  no  more  than 
the  man  before  him — but  he  kept  him  terrified,  if 
not  edified,  nervously  adjusting  his  red  sash,  the 
soldiers  yawning  in  sympathy,  until  he  heard  Jack's 
step  in  the  garden,  and  knew  that  Marsy  had  escaped. 
Ellice  entered  in  a  tearing  rage — cursing  the  whole 
cab  service  of  Paris,  and  vowing  he  would  walk  to  the 
Ministry.  Landes  presented  the  delegate's  apolo 
gies  to  him,  and,  after  some  difficulty,  they  were 
accepted,  and  it  ended  by  the  delegate  and  the  two 
Americans  exchanging  profound  salutations,  and 
many  compliments,  until  the  former  backed  out,  still 
bowing,  and  Landes  closed  the  door  behind  him. 
Jack  plunged  head-foremost  into  the  cushions  of  the 
divan  and  stopped  his  mouth  with  them — his  heels 
kicking  high  and  convulsively.  Landes  stood  silent 
and  troubled  until  he  heard  the  door  of  Marsy's 
studio  slam,  and  the  soldiers'  retreating  footsteps 
across  the  gravel.  Jack  uncovered  his  head  and 
looked  out  from  the  cushions. 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  you  and  your  United  States  ground  ! " 

Landes  relaxed  into  a  grin.  "  You  and  your  Ameri 
can  Minister!  "  he  retorted. 

"  But  I  knew  better  and  you  did  n't.  Oh,  by 
Jove  !  '  This  is  my  flag  ! '  says  he." 

"  Well,  it  worked,  did  n't  it?" 

"  And  Marsy  's  at  the  Gare  Montparnasse  by  this 
time.  And  the  sallow  cad  in  the  sash  did  n't  know 
his  government  has  the  right  of  search  in  its  own 
country  everywhere  except  at  the  Foreign  Ministries 
and  Embassies — what  a  bluff  !  " 


THE   IMPASSE   DE   LA   MORT.  139 


Joseph  entered  with  a  large  parcel.  Terror  was 
written  on  every  feature.  He  glanced  in  a  grieved 
manner  at  the  laughing  faces  and  began  to  lament. 
The  flight  of  Marsy  would  cause  the  house  to  be 
suspected,  and  they  gathered  from  his  somewhat 
incoherent  remarks  that,  as  father  of  a  family,  he 
objected  to  a  sudden  and  violent  death.  Landes 
comforted  him. 

"  You  are  all  right,  my  friend.  That  delegate  will 
not  want  to  talk  about  this  visit  in  a  hurry.  At  first 
he  will  be  afraid  to  tell  how  near  he  came  to  plun 
ging  two  great  nations  into  war — and  when  he  knows 
what  a  fool  he  made  of  himself  he  won't  want  to 
tell  that.  Joseph,  are  you  for  the  Commune  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  Landes,"  said  Joseph,  with  a  hurt  ex 
pression,  "  I  trust  I  am  in  my  senses." 

"  Then  you  would  n't  betray  me  ?  " 

Poor  Joseph  replied  with  a  howl,  more  convincing 
than  words.  Philip,  laughing,  assured  him  he  had 
only  been  joking,  and  dismissed  him.  Then  they 
opened  the  parcel.  Ellice  looked  at  his  watch — it 
was  nearly  six. 

"  Let  's  get  into  these  things,"  he  said. 

The  uniforms  and  kepis  fitted  them  as  well  as  they 
usually  fitted  the  men  who  wore  them.  They  sur 
veyed  each  other  critically,  cocked  their  caps  at 
each  other,  brushed  their  epaulettes,  and  buckled 
their  side-arms  tightly.  Landes  went  into  his  bed 
room  and  shaved  off  his  moustache.  When  he  came 
out  and  found  that  Jack  did  not  notice  the  change 
he  bitterly  lamented  the  sacrifice. 

It  was  after  six — Joseph  served  them  a  little 
supper — and  while  they  were  eating  it  they  took 


140  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


him  into  their  confidence.  When  he  fully  under 
stood  the  situation  his  admiration  knew  no  bounds. 
He  addressed  Philip  in  terms  of  adoration,  and  then 
began  that  habit,  which  he  kept  up  for  months,  of 
moving  about  Landes  on  tiptoe.  Unable  to  stop 
it  Landes  had  to  bear  it.  Joseph  would  neither  be 
silenced  nor  driven  away. 

"  Tenez  !  Monsieur  Philip,  you  have  a  noble 
heart  -  " 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Joseph,  go  and  drink  yourself 
to  death  with  this  five-franc  piece,"  entreated 
Landes,  but  neither  bribes  nor  threats  had  any 
effect. 

"  Charlemagne  and  Roland  are  not  in  it  with  you, 
old  chap,"  said  Ellice,  grinning  at  him  under  hia> 


"  Don  Quixote  is,"  said  Philip,  a  little  irritated, 
"  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  worship,  but  I  fear  this  will  be  a  worse 
business  than  windmills." 

Landes  looked  at  Jack's  laughing  face  with  com 
punction. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  I  have  no  right  to  bring 
you  into  this.  It  is  n't  your  affair.  You  are  risking 
your  neck  for  me." 

"  No,  for  fun.  And  besides,  you  are  risking  yours 
for  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  ;  what  's  the  difference? 
Moreover,  it  is  my  affair,  —  any  decent  man's  affair, 
you  know." 

Philip,  divided  between  his  urgent  need  of  help 
and  a  sudden  sense  of  responsibility  for  Jack's  neck, 
turned  toward  the  door. 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA    MORT.  141 


Joseph  had  called  a  cab  ;  they  entered  it  and  told 
the  driver  to  go  to  the  Cafe  Blanc-bee  in  the  Fau 
bourg  du  Temple.  They  had  planned  to  dismiss 
the  cab  there  and  stroll  leisurely  up  the  street  to  the 
Impasse  de  la  Mort. 

The  Boulevard  St.  Michel,  the  bridges,  the  quays, 
were  alive  with  National  Guards,  strolling  in  groups 
or  singly.  Their  uniforms  fitted  them  rather  worse, 
on  the  whole,  than  Jack's  and  Philip's  did  their 
wearers.  "  That  's  all  right,"  said  Ellice,  "  but  I 
hope  I  sha'n't  have  to  talk." 

"  Yes,  your — er — accent — but  there  are  all  sorts  of 
foreign  adventurers  in  the  Federal  ranks.  They  '11 
take  you  for  one." 

"  I  hope  so." 

"  Yes,  otherwise  when  you  say  '  donny  moy  ung 
verre  do — 

"  I  can  say  it  better  than  that,"  said  Ellice,  placidly. 

Landes  diverted  the  conversation.  "  What  has 
become  of  Ynes  Falaise,  Jack?" 

"  Did  n't  I  tell  you  ?  She  has  fallen  in  love  with 
Archie  Wilton." 

"  Why,  that 's  the  commander  of  the  266th." 

"  Yes.  Ynes  never  cared  for  him  until  he  began  to 
swagger  for  the  Commune.  Like  all  French  girls  of 
her  class  she  's  a  rank  rebel — and  now  she  adores 
Archie.  Pity, — Wilton  was  a  decent  little  chap 
when  he  was  an  art  student." 

They  were  looking  at  a  brilliantly  lighted  shop 
window  ;  crowds  of  people  seemingly  without  a  care 
in  the  world  were  passing  and  repassing. 

"  The  Reign  of  Terror  has  not  interfered  much 


142  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


with  business  as  yet,"  Landes  said, — "but  wait." 
They  were  drawing  near  their  destination. 

"  What  did  you  do  with  the  paper  on  which  Faus- 
tine  wrote  the  countersign  ?  " 

"  I  have  it." 

"  Tear  it  up,  we  know  the  word — '  Viroflay.' ' 

"  Yes — -Viroflay."  Landes  tore  the  paper  into 
little  bits  and  dropped  them  out  of  the  window. 
The  cab  drew  up  before  the  Cafe  Blanc-bee.  Ellice 
paid,  prudently  declining  a  battle  over  the  tip  which 
the  cabby  offered  him,  and  followed  Landes  on  to 
the  terrace.  They  ordered  coffee  and  sat  down  as  if 
they  meant  to  spend  the  evening.  There  were  not 
many  people  on  the  shabby  terrace.  A  vilely 
scented  souteneur,  a  poor  girl  or  two,  but  not  a 
single  uniform,  for  which  they  thanked  their  stars. 
After  a  while  the  bulky  proprietor  came  and  sur 
veyed  his  guests.  When  he  saw  the  two  National 
Guards  he  hailed  them  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Good-evening,  comrades.     What  battalion  ?" 

"Two  hundred  and  sixty-fifth,"  answered  Landes, 
pleasantly,  but  at  the  same  time  he  gave  Jack  the 
sign  to  move  on. 

"  Did  you  say  the  two  hundred  and  sixty-fifth  ?  " 
wheezed  the  host. 

"  Yes, — Colonel  Tribert,"  said  Landes,  rising 
slowly  and  moving  away. 

"  Wait,  comrade,  will  you  please  take  a  message 
to  my  son  ?  You  know  him,  perhaps, — Paul  Martin, 
private  in  the  third  company." 

Landes  had  to  stop  and  wait  until  the  man  wad 
dled  up. 


THE   IMPASSE   DE  LA    MORT,  143 


"  No,  I  don't  know  Paul  Martin." 

"  And  your  friend  ?  "  looking  at  Ellice.  Jack 
shook  his  head. 

"  Now  it  would  oblige  me  very  much  if  you  would 
inquire  for  my  son  in  the  third  company,  and  give 
him  a  message  for  me.  Ask  him  to  get  leave  for  an 
hour  or  two  to-night.  Tell  him,  Monsieur,"  here 
he  stuck  his  face  into  Landes' — "  tell  him  at  nine 
there  will  be  a  little  supper — a  few  delicacies — some 
good  wine,  a  duck — est  ce-que  je  sais  moi  ?  Well, 
something  better  than  camp  fare  at  least.  Will  you 
ask  him,  Monsieur?  " 

Landes  promised  and  started  again  to  go,  but  old 
Martin  seized  him  by  the  arm  and  poured  out  fat- 
voiced  thanks  mingled  with  cries  of  joy.  "  Come 
yourself,  also,  you  and  your  comrade — mon  Dieu  ! — 
you  young  fellows  can  get  two  hours'  leave  !  Come 
and  bring  the  ladies  if  you  like — I  don't  care.  Cr£ 
nom  d'un  nom  il  faut  bien  qu'on  s'amuse  !  " 

To  get  away  from  him  Landes  promised  every 
thing,  and  the  fat  reprobate  let  him  go  at  last  in  a 
shower  of  "  au  revoirs  !  " 

"  Did  you  see  his  nose?  The  old  sinner!  "  said 
Ellice,  in  disgust.  As  they  crossed  the  dirty  Canal 
St.  Martin,  Philip  begged  him  to  speak  lower  and 
keep  an  eye  open  for  sentries. 

"  We  've  got  our  revolvers,"  said  Jack. 

"  Yes,"  thought  Landes,  "  but  if  we  have  to  fire 
the  game  's  up.  There  ! — the  Impasse  de  la  Mort," 
he  said  aloud  ;  "  now  keep  quiet  and  let  me  do  the 
talking  if  we  're  challenged." 

"  Lord  !     You  're  welcome,"  said  Jack. 


144  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


They  crossed  the  street  and  entered  the  mouth  of 
a  narrow  alley  lighted  dimly  by  a  single  oil  lamp  at 
the  farther  end,  but  no  challenge  came  from  the 
darkness,  and  there  was  no  sound  except  the  echo  of 
their  own  footsteps. 

When  they  had  gone  about  a  third  of  the  way 
down  the  alley  a  door  was  flung  open  in  a  house 
between  them  and  the  gate  which  they  had  just 
passed,  a  gleam  of  light  shone  out,  and  a  babel  of 
voices  filled  the  narrow  court.  Then  the  door  was 
slammed,  the  voices  ceased,  and  the  place  was  in 
darkness  again.  But  the  two  friends  had  seen  a  sol 
dier  come  out  of  the  door  and  walk  toward  the  en 
trance  of  the  alley. 

"  It  's  the  sentinel ;  he  's  been  drinking  in  there, 
that  's  why  we  were  not  challenged,"  whispered 
Ellice. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Landes,  and  he  started 
toward  the  figure  now  standing  in  the  mouth  of  the 
alley.  He  had  almost  reached  the  sentinel  before 
the  fellow  heard  him,  and  swinging  about  brought 
his  rifle  awkwardly  to  the  charge. 

"  Qui  vive  !  "  he  bellowed,  ferociously. 

"  Friend  of  the  Commune  !  " 

"  Advance  three  paces,  friend  of  the  Commune  !  " 

Philip  obeyed  carelessly. 

"  Halt !  " 

"  Philip  stopped,  cocked  his  kepi,  thrust  his  hands 
into  his  pockets,  and  said  :  "  Come,  come,  comrade  ; 
not  so  much  fuss !  You  leave  your  post  to  get  a 
drink,  and  Thiers  himself  might  have  passed." 

The  sentinel,  a  thick-witted  lout,  was  frightened, 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA   MORT.  145 


and  tried  to  hide  it  by  angrily  demanding  the  coun 
tersign. 

"  Viroflay  !  Viroflay  !  For  all  you  know  it  might 
be  Versailles  !  Really  this  indiscipline  is  dis 
gusting." 

The  sentinel  dropped  the  butt  of  his  musket  to  the 
ground  and  stared  hard,  trying  to  see  Landes'  face 
in  the  half  darkness. 

"  What  's  your  battalion  ?  "  he  asked,  nervously. 

"That  's  none  of  your  business." 

"You  're  not  very  polite,  comrade,"  whined  the 
fellow,  who  began  to  fear  he  had  to  do  with  an  offi 
cer  on  his  rounds  in  private's  uniform. 

"  I  'm  polite  when  I  choose  to  be.  Why  did  you 
leave  your  post  ?  " 

"  Voyons,  comrade — it  was  only  a  moment — just 
a  step  to  the  '  Bec-de-Gaz  '  there — and  this  is  very 
dry  work.  You  would  n't  report  me  ?  " 

"  What  's  your  battalion  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  265th !  "  said  the  man,  surprised  and 
suspicious  again. 

Philip  saw  his  slip  and  caught  himself  up. 

"  Good !  You  're  not  so  drunk  that  you  can't  tell 
that !  "  he  said. 

"  Drunk  !  "  cried  the  sentinel,  "when  I  only  had  a 
petit  verre !  " 

"That  will  do.  Your  company?"  demanded 
Philip,  sternly. 

"  Third,"  stammered  the  man,  perplexed  and 
frightened  once  more. 

"  Your  name?  " 

"  Paul  Martin." 


146  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Landes  whistled  softly.  Then  he  burst  into  a  hearty 
laugh  and  clapped  the  sentinel  on  the  shoulder. 

"  I  was  joking,"  he  said.  "  Don't  take  it  amiss, 
comrade.  I  've  got  a  message  for  you  from  your 
father." 

"  Farceur !  "  cried  Martin,  angrily,  but  much  re 
lieved.  "  You  gave  me  a  fine  scare  !  How  did  I 
know  but  it  was  that  martinet  Cluseret?  " 

"  D — n  Cluseret !  "  swaggered  Philip.  "  How  long 
are  you  on  duty  ?  " 

"  Until  midnight.  The  Captain  soaked  it  to  me 
for  losing  three  buttons.  What  does  my  father 
want  ?  " 

"  He  wants  you  to  get  two  hours'  liberty.  There  's 
a  duck,  some  good  wine,  and  good  company  at  the 
Cafe  Blanc-bee,  at  nine  o'clock." 

"  Fichtre  !     I  can't  go." 

"  Ask  the  Captain." 

"  Look  here,  my  friend,  I  see  you  don't  belong  to 
the  third  company,  or  you  would  know  that  pig 
headed  Captain  Pau.  Do  you  think  after  he  's  stuck 
me  with  six  hours'  extra  sentry  he  's  going  to  give 
me  two  hours'  liberty  ?  What  is  your  company 
anyway?" 

Landes  ignored  the  question. 

"I'm  sorry  you  can't  come;  Monsieur  Martin 
invited  me  too." 

"  And  to  think  that  I  must  miss  it, — I  who  live 
on — you  know  what  they  choke  us  with  here  !  " 

"  Do  I  know  !  "  groaned  Philip. 

"Duck,  did  you  say?"  The  man  banged  his 
rifle  viciously  against  the  stones. 


THE   IMPASSE   DE  LA    MORT.  1 47 


"  Duck  and  green  peas,"  repeated  Philip,  carelessly. 

"  And  old  wine  ?  The  Beaune  that  he  drinks 
himself  no  doubt." 

"  He  said  'good  wine  '  and  '  tender  duck.'  " 

"  Don't,  comrade,  my  mouth  is  watering !  " 

"  Diable  !  so  is  mine  !  "  laughed  Philip. 

The  sentinel  cursed  his  luck  so  heartily  that 
Landes  laughed  all  the  more.  Then  he  said,  pre 
tending  to  have  a  sudden  thought  and  coming  close 
to  Martin  :  "  Listen,  comrade,  I  believe  we  can  ar 
range  it,  after  all.  Where  is  the  sentinel  in  front 
of  Colonel  Tribert's  house?" 

"  He  is  n't  in  front  any  more.  He  's  stationed 
in  the  hallway.  Why?" 

"  Never  mind,  let  me  see, — Colonel  Tribert's 
house  is — is " 

"  The  third  from  the  end  of  the  cul-de-sac, — on 
the  right.  Has  n't  your  company  been  on  guard 
here?" 

"  No — not  yet.  Well,  now  suppose  I  should  get 
you  a  substitute — would  the  Colonel  find  it  out?" 

"  No — he  does  n't  know  me — and  besides,  he  's 
gone  away." 

"  And  your  Captain  ?  " 

"  He  's  gone  too — with  the  Colonel  to  the  Hotel 
de  Ville." 

"  Then  if  I  get  someone  to  take  your  place  you 
could  come  for  an  hour  to  the  petit  souper — and 
not  be  missed." 

"Can  you  do  that?" 

"  Well,  one  of  my  comrades  has  gone  into  the 
Impasse  to  see  his  girl.  He  '11  stand  here  for  us, 


148  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


I  '11  engage,  if  we  bring  him  a  half  bottle  and  a 
wing  of  something !  " 

"  Tiens  !  an  idea  !     Ask  him  !  " 

Philip  ran  to  where  Ellice  was  concealed  in  a 
doorway,  and  told  him  in  a  few  words  of  the 
chance  that  he  had  found.  Jack  whispered,  "All 
right !  "  and  they  returned  together  to  the  sentry. 

"  My  comrade,  Victor,  of  the  sixth —  '  whispered 
Landes  to  Martin,  "  give  him  your  chassepot,  and 
hurry." 

"  Are  n't  you  coming  too  ?" 

"  In  ten  minutes.  I  'm  going  to  fetch  a  lady — 
your  father  said  I  might." 

"  Ah — c'est  £a  !  "  Martin's  coarse  voice  broke 
into  a  chuckle.  "  Then  I  won't  wait — and — I  say, 
comrade — bring  two." 

"  If  I  can,"  said  Philip,  hiding  his  disgust,  "  now 
hurry." 

Martin  slunk  quickly  out  of  the  alley,  muttering, 
"  don't  forget,  Viroflay  is  the  word,"  and  disap 
peared  in  the  direction  of  the  Canal.  As  soon  as  he 
had  vanished  Landes  turned  to  Ellice. 

"  Jack,  Tribert  has  gone  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 
His  house  is  the  little  one  there  at  the  end  of  the 
alley,  the  third  on  the  right.  There  's  a  sentry  in  the 
hallway.  I  'm  going  to  reconnoitre." 

"  I  '11  come  too." 

They  walked  rapidly  toward  the  house. 

"  What  a  rat-trap,"  said  Jack,  eying  the  end  of 
the  Impasse,  which  was  a  dead  wall. 

"  What  's  the  use  of  saying  so  if  it  is,"  said  Landes, 
nervously. 


THE   IMPASSE   DE   LA    MORT.  149 


"There  's  the  house — and  here  's  the  sentry!" 

"  Qui  vive  !  "  came  the  challenge,  followed  by  a 
rattle  of  accoutrements  in  the  doorway. 

"  Friends  of  the  Commune  !  " 

"  Advance  three  paces,  friends  of  the  Commune ! 
Halt!" 

"  Hst!  Viroflay!"  It  's  all  right,"  said  Landes, 
walking  up  to  the  doorway.  "  Paul  Martin  is  in 
trouble  again." 

''What's  he  done  now? "  inquired  the  sentry, 
leaning  carelessly  on  his  rifle. 

"You  know  how  the  Captain  soaked  him  about 
the  buttons  ?" 

"  Yes,  six  hours'  extra  sentry." 

"  Well,  he  's  been  found  away  from  his  post  now. 
He  just  went  into  the  '  Bec-de-Gaz  '  to  drink,  and 
along  comes — comes — 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  You  know,"  whispered  Landes,  who  was  stuck 
fast. 

"  You  don't  mean  Grissot?  " 

"  Yes — Grissot  himself." 

"  Whew  !    Poor  Paul !    What  did  old  Grissot  do  ?  " 

"Come  in  and  I  '11  tell  you,"  and  Landes  walked 
into  the  house  with  a  swagger  and  a  cock  of  his  k6pi 
that  would  have  carried  conviction  in  any  Federal 
battalion.  Ellice  followed  in  the  same  fashion,  and 
they  entered  a  big  bare  office,  lighted  by  a  single 
candle. 

"  Wait !  "  cried  the  sentry,  a  beardless  youth,  with 
prominent  eyes  and  retreating  chin,  "you  can't  go 
in  there." 


150  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Oh,  it 's  all  right,"  laughed  Philip,  "  have  you  got 
anything  to  eat?" 

"  No,  but  there  's  a  bottle  of  cognac  in  that  closet 
— if  you  'ir\vait  till  — 

"  Can't  wait." 

"  If  the  Colonel  comes " 

"  Oh,  he  won't  come — let  's  have  a  drink,"  said 
Landes,  coming  nearer  with  a  glance  at  Ellice  who 
was  watching  him.  "  Hello  !  What  's  wrong  with 
your  rifle  ?  Is  that  the  way — 

"  What  ?  What  ?  "  said  the  sentry,  looking  down 
at  it.  Landes  tripped  him  up  and  held  his  mouth 
closed  while  Ellice  jerked  the  rifle  out' of  his  hands. 

"  Tear  up  that  curtain,  Jack — quick — the  fool  is 
trying  to  bite  me."  In  a  minute  the  astonished 
sentry  had  his  mouth  stuffed  with  a  ball  of  cloth,  a 
band  about  his  face  to  keep  it  in  and  strong  bandages 
around  both  ankles  and  both  arms. 

"  Fine  troops  these  Federals,"  laughed  Landes  ; 
"we  'd  better  go  on  and  capture  the  city.  Quick, 
let  's  get  him  into  that  closet." 

"  There  he  goes  !  " 

"  Good  !     Lock  him  in  !  " 

Jack  locked  the  door  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket. 
"  Hark !  What  's  that  ?  "  he  said  as  a  door  opened 
and  a  voice  sounded  on  the  floor  above.  They  crept 
to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  listened,  then  mounted 
silently. 

"  Keep  out  of  sight,"  Landes  motioned.  They 
had  reached  the  landing  and  Philip,  who  was  first, 
could  see  into  the  room  whose  door  stood  open. 
He  looked  and  drew  back  with  a  face  that  made 


THE   IMPASSE   DE   LA    MORT.  !$! 

Jack's  blood  run  cold.  Putting  his  mouth  close  to 
Ellice's  ear — Landes  whispered,  "Tribert  is  there." 

The  voice  was  plain  enough  now — and  the  words 
were  perfectly  audible  to  both  listeners. 

"  What  are  you  whining  about  ?  "  growled  Tribert, 
addressing  someone  in  an  inner  room.  "  It  's  your 
own  fault.  I  Ve  told  you  what  I  would  do,  and 
it  's  more  than  anybody  else  would  do  for  you." 
There  was  no  reply.  Landes  saw  him  pick  up  a  sword 
from  a  camp-stool  and  attach  it  to  his  clasp.  Then 
he  took  a  brace  of  revolvers  from  the  mantle,  thrust 
them  into  his  belt,  and  turned  again  to  the  invisible 
occupant  of  the  next  room. 

"  No  more  whining,  I  say.  If  you  want  to  go 
home  to  Tours,  I  tell  you  I  '11  send  you  there  safely, 
but  only  on  that  condition.  As  for  this  scarlet  and 
black  dandy  in  spurs,  he  's  going  to  stay  here." 

"Then  I  shall  stay  too,"  came  the  answer  in  a 
clear  sweet  voice,  ringing  with  defiance. 

Tribert  made  an  ominous  gesture. 

"  Be  careful,  you  two  !  I  'm  going  now  to  the 
Hotel  de  Ville.  If  you  want  to  get  safely  to  Tours, 
Madame,  you  will  persuade  your  fellow  aristocrat  to 
hear  reason.  If  he  does  not  make  up  his  mind  to 
accept  my  proposition  before  I  leave  this  room  it 
will  be  bad  for  both  of  you.  Yes,  both — do  you  hear 
me,  Captain  de  Carette?" 

Philip's  heart  leaped  into  his  throat.  He  reached 
back  and  clutched  Jack,  who  nodded  that  he  had 
heard. 

There  was  a  slight  pause,  then  Alain's  voice,  cool 
and  contemptuous : 


152  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  I  was  not  paying  attention.    What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  said,"  roared  Tribert,  "  that  you  had  better 
decide  now.  The  Commune  has  voted  the  Law  of 
Suspects.  If  Raoul  Rigault  catches  you  it  means  a 
file  of  men — and  a  dead  wall  for  you.  I,  on  the 
other  hand,  offer  you  command  of  a  battalion." 

"Oh!  a— battalion ?" 

"  Of  Turcos."  • 

"Turcos?" 

"  I  said  so." 

"  Ah  !     Turcos  from  Belleville  ?  " 

"  How  reckless,"  thought  Landes,  "  to  prod  a  wild 
beast  when  you  are  in  his  den  !  "  The  sullen  roar 
began  to  sound  again  in  Tribert's  voice — but  he 
restrained  himself.  The  hope  of  securing  a  regular 
officer  and  an  aristocrat  for  the  Commune's  army 
was  worth  some  self-restraint. 

"  Well,  and  what  have  you  against  Turcos  from 
Belleville,  Monsieur  the  Aristocrat?  The  battalion 
is  formed — we  '11  see  which  will  fight  the  best,  when 
it  is  face  to  face  with  your  yellow  monkeys  from 
Algiers.  Will  you  command  it  or  no  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  will  I  turn  traitor  to  save  myself?" 

"Answer  me  !  "  snarled  Tribert. 

"  I  must  trouble  you  to  loosen  this  rope  a  little 
first ;  it  's  too  tight.  Torture  is  n't  included,  as  yet, 
in  the  procedure  of  the  Commune,  is  it  ?  " 

"  He  '11  give  it  an  extra  twist  for  that,"  thought 
Landes  ;  "why  will  Alain  be  so  foolish?"  and  he  re 
membered  how  he  had  flung  a  haughty  affront  in 
the  face  of  the  ex-valet  on  Montmartre.  "  He  won't 
get  off  this  time,"  Landes  thought,  with  a  sinking 


THE  IMPASSE  DE   LA    MORT.  153 


heart.  But  Tribert,  after  a  second's  hesitation, 
tramped  into  the  next  room,  and  his  voice  was  heard 
saying  : 

"  Which  rope  ?     Oh,  this  ?  " 

"  Not  that  way, — you  tighten  it !  " 

A  pause. 

"  You  find  that  painful  ?  "  growledTribert. 

"Very,"  answered  Alain,  drily. 

"  Well,  you  know  how  to  escape  these  little  annoy 
ances.  Listen  to  me,  once  for  all ;  if  the  Versailles 
troops  see  Turcos  on  our  side,  commanded  by  a 
regular  officer,  they  will  desert  to  us.  That  is  why 
we  want  you  !  This  is  your  chance.  Under  the 
Commune,  promotion  ; — you  can  become  what  you 
will.  If  you  refuse,  we  shall  sweep  Thiers  and  his 
traitors  into  the  Seine  all  the  same,  and  you — 

"Tribert,"  said  de  Carette,  with  insulting  omission 
of  the  Colonel,  "  if  I  live  to  catch  you  outside  of 
this  place  I  will  have  you  shot  for  attempting  to 
corrupt  the  Line."  There  was  a  short  silence,  then  a 
blow  and  a  fall. 

"  Shame  !  "  cried  a  faint  voice,  the  voice  of  a 
woman  ;  "  shame  on  you  ! 

"  Now  for  it !  "  panted  Landes,  drawing  his  re 
volver  ;  "  now,  Jack  !  "  and  they  stole  into  the  outer 
room. 

"  Here  he  comes,"  whispered  Ellice. 

Tribert  appeared  in  the  inner  doorway,  saw  them, 
opened  his  mouth  to  shout,  tried  to  sieze  his  re 
volver,  and  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  queer  choking 
gasp.  Landes  had  struck  him  full  in  the  face  with 
the  butt  of  his  pistol.  Before  he  had  time  to  fall, 


154  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Philip  struck  him  again,  savagely,  full  on  the  temple. 
Then  he  measured  his  length  on  the  floor. 

"  Go  in,  Jack,  I  dare  n't  leave  this  beast  yet." 

Jack  sprang  into  the  second  room,  while  Landes 
seized  Tribert  by  the  legs  and  dragged  him  into  a 
small  room  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  By  the  dim 
light  from  the  hall  he  unwound  Tribert's  sash,  twisted 
it  into  a  rope  and  bound  him  hand  and  foot  as  tightly 
as  he  could  draw  the  knots.  Then  he  took  a  small 
towel  from  the  washstand,  rolled  it  into  a  ball, 
stuffed  it  into  the  unconscious  man's  mouth,  tied  it 
on  with  strips  torn  from  another  towel,  and  opened 
a  window  to  let  in  fresh  air.  "  I  ought  to  let  him 
smother,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  slipped  out, 
locked  the  door,  pocketed  the  key,  and  hurried  back 
to  find  the  prisoners.  As  he  stepped  into  the  outer 
room  a  tattered  and  bloody  object  seized  and  hugged 
him. 

"  De  Carette  !  You  here  !  "  was  all  Landes  could 
trust  his  voice  to  say.  Keeping  hold  of  Alain,  who 
seemed  almost  to  lean  on  him,  Landes  turned  to  the 
inner  room.  There  stood  Ellice  bending  over  a  young 
lady  who  sat  on  a  lounge,  trembling  but  holding  up 
her  head  and  gazing  resolutely  into  his  face. 

Landes  stepped  to  her  side. 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac,"  he  said,  "  don't  dis- 
trust  us  because  of  our  uniforms.  We  have  come 
to  get  you  away  from  here." 

The  young  lady  transferred  her  timid  but  unflinch 
ing  gaze  to  Philip's  face.  She  seemed  bewildered. 
De  Carette  drew  him  away,  saying,  with  a  queer 
laugh : 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA    MORT.  155 


"  That  is  not  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac.  She  is 
locked  in  another  room.  I  '11  show  you.  Come." 

"For  God's  sake,  hurry!"  cried  Landes.  Alain 
tried  to  follow,  but  stumbled  and  leaned  on  his 
friend. 

"  That  rope  was  tight,"  he  muttered.  Philip  sup 
ported  him  while  he  led  the  way  up  two  steps,  down 
a  short  narrow  entry,  to  a  closed  door. 

"  We  shall  have  to  break  it  in,"  he  said,  and  gath 
ered  what  remained  of  his  strength  for  one  more 
effort.  Together  they  threw  themselves,  full  weight, 
against  the  door  ;  it  gave  way,  crashing  and  splinter 
ing,  and  sent  them  head  foremost  into  the  room. 

Shocked  at  having  entered  in  such  a  manner, 
Landes  drew  himself  up  and  stood  stiffly  near  the 
shattered  door.  There  was  an  unshaded  lamp  on  a 
table.  Beside  it  stood  a  young  girl,  motionless. 
Her  beautiful  eyes,  dilated  with  fear  and  courage, 
looked  black  in  the  half  light,  her  white  face  was 
calm,  one  delicate  hand  rested  easily  on  the  table. 

There  was  no  mistake  this  time.  Philip  would 
have  known  her  among  a  million.  Jeanne  de  Bras- 
sac  had  grown  to  be  a  woman.  Her  fair  hair  gath 
ered  back  from  the  full  temples,  her  sweet  eyes,  the 
curve  of  her  lips,  and  above  all  that  soft  little  hand 
resting  quietly,  just  as  it  rested  on  her  mother's  arm 
so  long  ago. 

"  What  do  you  wish,  Messieurs  ?  "  she  said,  as  if 
their  appearance  had  been  quite  regular. 

"  I — I  am  Philip  Landes,"  he  stammered. 

"  Philip  Landes !  "  she  cried,  and  her  startled  eyes 
looked  into  his. 


156  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


De  Carette  had  somehow  regained  his  feet.  His 
clothes  were  torn  and  bloody,  his  face  was  ghastly 
pale,  his  voice  scarcely  audible  ;  but  he  came  forward 
and  made  her  a  bow  with  perfect  grace. 

"  My  name  is  Alain  de  Carette,  Captain  of  Artillery 
in  the  regular  army,  taken  this  morning  at  the  St. 
Lazare  Station  by  the  Federals,  and  a  fellow  pris 
oner  with  you  in  this  house  all  day —  "  he  hesitated 
— "  there  is  a  lady  too  " — then  went  on  hurriedly 
— "  and  this,  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac,  is  Philip 
Landes,  your  brother's  friend,  who  risks  his  life  to 
save  yours." 

With  an  exquisite  gesture  Jeanne  de  Brassac  held 
out  her  hand  to  Landes.  "  That  is  what  my  father 
said  you  would  do,  Monsieur " 

"  We  must  hurry,"  said  de  Carette  in  the  ghost  of 
a  voice,  "  if  we  are  to  get  away  from  here,"  and  led 
the  way  back  to  the  room  where  Ellice  stood,  seem 
ingly  oblivious  of  surroundings,  in  delighted  attend 
ance  on  the  bewildered  and  haughty  young  lady, 
who,  when  she  saw  another  woman  ungratefully 
said,  "  God  be  praised  !  "  and  went  to  meet  Jeanne 
without  giving  Jack  a  glance. 

"  Madam — Mademoiselle  de  St.  Brieuc,"  said  de 
Carette,  "  this  is  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac.  We 
have  not  one  moment  to  lose.  Will  you  come,  ladies? 
Philip,  will  you  lead  ?  " 

"You  can't  go  out  that  way.   Your  uniform " 

"  I  'm  not  going  with  you.  I  shall  wait  till  you 
get  clear." 

"  You  think  we  would  go  and  leave  you  ?  There 
— take  my  overcoat,  and  Tribert's  cap  is  on  the  land 
ing  outside." 


THE   IMPASSE   DE   LA    MORT.  1 57 


"  That  is  a  private's  overcoat — take  this."  Jeanne 
de  Brassac  caught  a  Federal  officer's  overcoat  from  a 
peg  on  the  wall. 

Ellice  helped  Alain  on  with  it  ;  Landes  brought 
Tribert's  cap.  "  Now  you  are  perfect.  Will  you 
lead  the  way  ?  We  may  meet  a  sentry  after  all." 

The  ladies  had  caught  up  their  wraps  and  con 
cealed  their  faces  in  them. 

Not  a  soul  was  stirring  in  the  Impasse  de  la  Mort 
as  they  emerged  from  Tribert's  headquarters. 

Silently  they  moved  toward  the  entrance.  The 
sentry  had  not  returned  and  his  absence  had  not 
been  discovered.  They  were  cautiously  stepping 
out  into  the  Faubourg  du  Temple  when  they  met 
Martin  face  to  face.  He  was  accompanied  by  a  file 
of  soldiers,  but  he  was  too  drunk  to  care,  and  chanted 
in  a  low  sentimental  voice  : 

"  Oh,  take  me  to  my  love  ! 
Oh,  take  me  to  my  love  ! 
Oh  (hie  !),  take  me  to  my  (hie  !) — " 

"The  game's  up!"  muttered  Ellice,  "here's 
Martin."  At  the  same  moment  Martin  discovered 
Landes  and  yelled  with  delight. 

"  Fine  dinner,  good  wine,  mon  vieux  !  "  he  shouted, 
"  never  had  better.  Ladies,  you  are  too  late  !  " 

"  Silence  !  "  commanded  de  Carette,  sternly  ;  then 
with  a  haughty  gesture  to  the  officer  in  charge, 
"  Halt !  Lieutenant,  what  do  you  mean  by  per 
mitting  a  drunken  soldier  to  insult  an  officer  accom 
panied  by  ladies  ?  " 

The  moment  was  critical.  The  lieutenant  had 
barred  the  way  and  was  motioning  his  men  to  close 


158  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


in,  but  this  attack  frightened  him.  He  saw  the  four 
gold  bands  on  de  Carette's  cap,  and  although  in  that 
dim  light  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish  features, 
yet  Alain's  bearing  of  superior  officer  was  not  to  be 
mistaken,  and  the  cold  authority  of  his  tone  made 
the  young  lieutenant  shiver.  He  stuttered  and 
stammered  and  saluted  obsequiously,  but  froze  stiff 
when  Landes,  seeing  the  impression  already  made, 
quietly  stepped  to  Alain's  side,  saluted  with  much 
deference,  and  said  something  in  a  voice  too  low  to 
be  heard,  excepting  the  word  "  Cluseret,"  which  he 
caused  to  reach  the  lieutenant's  startled  ears.  Alain 
nodded  curtly  to  Philip  and  turned  again  to  the 
Federal  officer. 

"  Report  to  your  captain  and  consider  yourself 
under  arrest  !  Sergeant,  take  that  drunkard  to  the 
guard-house.  Thirty  days'  police  cell.  Set  two  sen 
tries  at  the  gate  and  allow  no  one  to  leave  the  Im 
passe  until  you  have  my  orders.  Why  is  there  no 
sentry  in  front  of  Colonel  Tribert's  headquarters  ? 
Set  two  there  at  once  and  let  no  one  enter  or  leave 
the  house  until  you  have  the  order  from  General 
Cluseret.  By  heaven !  I  '11  bring  this  battalion 
under  discipline  or  I  '11  disband  it.  March  !  " 

Like  a  flock  of  sheep  the  detachment  crowded  into 
the  Impasse  and  the  little  party  of  fugitives  hurried 
away  toward  the  Canal  St.  Martin. 

Landes  and  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  walked  first ; 
Ellice  came  next  with  the  silent,  frightened  stranger  on 
his  arm  ;  de  Carette  brought  up  the  rear.  The  street 
was  not  well  lighted  but  there  were  many  people 
passing,  and  now  and  then  some,  keener-sighted  and 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA    MORT,  1 59 


more  curious  than  the  rest,  would  stop  and  stare  back 
at  them  ;  sometimes  these  would  speak  to  others 
who  also  turned  and  stared. 

When  this  had  happened  several  times  Alain 
joined  Philip.  "  We  are  attracting  attention,  our 
party  is  too  large,"  he  whispered. 

"  Yes,  I  see.     I  'm  afraid  we  must  separate." 

"Where  are  you  going?  "  asked  de  Carette. 

"  Why,  as  we  decided  last  night  at  the  War  Min 
istry,  to  the  Montparnasse  Station.  Mademoiselle 
de  Brassac  must  be  on  her  way  to  Chartres  within 
an  hour,  if  possible." 

"  I  'm  afraid  it  is  n't  possible." 

"  But  the  Montparnasse  Station  is  not  guarded. 
Ellice  says  so." 

"  It  was  not  guarded  at  noon,  but  who  knows 
what  may  have  been  done  by  this  time  ?  I  would 
not  dare  venture  if  I  were  you." 

"  What  in  the  world  can  we  do  then  ?  Where  can 
she  go  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  this  is  n't  the  time  to  choose,  if 
there  were  any  choice,  but  there  is  n't,"  began  Alain. 

Ellice  interrupted,  pressing  forward  with  Made 
moiselle  de  St.  Brieuc  :  "  Philip,  do  you  see  how  the 
people  are  staring  ?  We  've  got  to  separate,  and  the 
sooner  the  better  !  " 

"  Captain  de  Carette  thinks  the  Gare  Montparnasse 
may  be  guarded  by  this  time,"  said  Landes. 

"Then  give  that  up,"  urged  Ellice.  "You  take  a 
cab  with  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  ;  we  '11  walk  on  a 
little  and  take  another,  we  three,  then,  all  make  for 
my  studio,  by  different  routes." 


I6O  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Why  not  for  mine  ?  " 

"  Mine  is  nearer,  and  safer,  because  it  is  mine. 
Rigault  and  Company  don't  know  me  as  well  as 
they  do  you." 

"  Monsieur's  advice  is  excellent,"  said  de  Carette, 
in  a  faint  voice.  "  Will  you  call  a  cab,  Philip?  ' 

"Alain,  dear  old  fellow,  you  are  suffering?"  whis 
pered  Philip,  while  Jack  hurried  off  in  the  direction 
of  a  cab-stand.  Alain  leaned  against  his  friend  with 
out  answering.  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  gently 
begged  to  know  if  he  was  badly  hurt ;  the  other  lady 
trembled  violently  but  did  not  speak. 

A  cab  stopped  beside  them.  Jack  sprang  out  and 
waited  for  Philip,  but  he  turned  to  de  Carette.  "  We 
will  follow  you  immediately,  Alain."  De  Carette 
drew  himself  up  with  an  effort,  bowed,  and  motioned 
Mademoiselle  de  St.  Brieuc  to  enter.  She  glanced 
at  him,  hesitated,  and  obeyed.  He  followed  her 
inside  and  then  quietly  fainted  away.  Ellice  sprang 
after  him,  Landes  gave  the  driver  hasty  directions, 
and  came  and  leaned  in  at  the  window. 

"  Is  he  very  ill  ?  Why,  he  's  all  over  fresh  blood. 
He's  been  shot  in  the  body  somewhere!"  Then  Made 
moiselle  de  St.  Brieuc  seemed  to  throw  off  her  stupor, 
and  turning  to  Ellice  said :  "  he  was  shot  in  the 
shoulder  this  morning  at  the  Gare  St.  Lazare  where 
they  killed  my  uncle.  I  know  a  little  about  sur 
gery.  If  you  can  take  him  to  a  safe  place  I  can  help 
care  for  him  ! ' 

"  Good  !  "  said  Ellice  ;  "  Philip,  tell  the  man  to 
drive  on.  Join  us  as  soon  as  possible,  at  my  place." 

The  cab  rolled  away.     Landes  and  Mademoiselle 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA    MORT.  l6l 


de  Brassac  were  left  standing  alone  in  the  Faubourg 
du  Temple.  He  glanced  down  at  her  quiet  face  and 
offered  his  arm.  She  took  it  with  simple  confidence, 
and  they  walked  away  together.  Turning  at  the 
first  corner  they  entered  a  dark  side  street,  going 
slowly  at  first,  but  hurrying  as  soon  as  they  dared. 
Her  step  was  light  and  firm,  her  hand  rested  on  his 
arm  like  a  feather,  and  she  breathed  easily  in  spite 
of  their  rapid  pace. 

"  Are  you  tired  ? — and  frightened  ?  "  he  asked,  as 
they  approached  a  lighted  Boulevard. 

"  No.     Are  we  in  any  danger  now?  " 

"  I  think  not.  I  think  the  worst  is  over.  We  will 

take  a  cab  just  beyond  that  lamp,  and "  His 

tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth. 

Raoul  Rigault  was  ivalking  at  his  elbow. 

He  saw  the  small  eyes  blinking  through  the 
glasses,  the  coarse  red  lips,  moist  and  venomous 
under  the  beard,  and  with  all  his  strength  he  struck 
him.  Once,  twice,  he  felt  the  impact  of  his  clenched 
fist  on  that  hideous  face,  then  he  heard  cries  and 
shouts,  the  noise  of  feet,  and  clamour  of  voices  ;  his 
hand  was  seized  and  he  found  himself  running, 
drawn  along  by  Jeanne  de  Brassac,  who  sped  lightly 
at  his  side,  her  fingers  tightly  clasped  in  his.  Be 
hind  was  the  noise  of  pursuit. 

"Turn  here!"  he  breathed,  and  they  swung  into 
a  long  dark  alley,  traversed  it,  and  entered  another. 
"  Turn  here  !  "  he  repeated,  and  they  were  in  a  nar 
row,  squalid  street,  where  they  had  to  stop  running 
and  pick  their  way  through  mire.  The  shouts  be 
hind  them  seemed  drawing  nearer.  They  reached 


1 62  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


a  broader  street,  fairly  well  lighted  and  cleaner,  but 
almost  deserted,  and  dashed  recklessly  through  it. 
Into  a  dark  street  again, — he  did  not  know  where, 
he  was  lost  for  the  moment, — dark,  narrow,  and  in 
terminable,  he  could  hear  his  heart  beating  and  her 
skirts  flapping  in  the  March  wind,  as  she  ran  beside 
him,  her  hand  close  clasped  in  his. 

"  Are  you  tired  ?  "  he  faltered. 

"  No  !  no  !  "  she  panted,  and  she  increased  her 
pace.  They  came  to  an  open  square. 

"  We  must  walk  now,"  said  Landes. 

They  listened  ;  the  pursuit  seemed  falling  off. 

"  They  must  have  gone  another  way.  Oh,  for  a 
cab  while  there  is  time  !  "  he  groaned,  freeing  his 
eyes  from  the  sweat  that  rolled  into  them  from  his 
hair,  and  peering  across  the  square.  "  There !  I 
think  I  saw  one ! "  and  he  crossed  over,  forcing 
himself  and  Jeanne  to  walk  slowly. 

"  Au  large  !  Au  large  /  on  ne  passe  pas  !  "  came 
from  the  street  they  were  approaching,  and  the  Com 
mune's  pickets  took  it  up  along  the  square. 

"  A  barricade  !  Come  !  "  and  he  bore  due  west 
once  more. 

To  reach  Ellice's  studio,  in  the  rue  de  Sfax,  it  was 
necessary  to  go  north.  Again  and  again  when  they 
tried  to  cross  in  that  direction  they  were  stopped 
by  the  warning  challenge  and  the  rattle  of  bayonets. 

"  The  city  is  cut  in  two  !  I  don't  know  how  to 
reach  the  rue  de  Sfax  from  here  ;  the  barricades 
block  us,  and  we  dare  not  go  back  to  the  Boule 
vards." 

"  What  can  we  do  then  ?  "  she  asked,  with  just  the 


THE  IMPASSE  DE  LA    MORT.  163 


slightest  break  in  her  voice.  He  stopped,  full  of 
pity. 

"  But  please  don't  think  I  am  complaining  !  "  she 
said  quickly.  "  I  am  not  afraid,  I  trust  you  im 
plicitly,  and  I  am  not  tired  either." 

In  miserable  helplessness  he  gazed  about  him. 
There  was  but  one  route  open.  Toward  the  north 
barricades  closed  every  outlet,  but  the  west  was 
clear  as  far  as  he  could  see. 

"  I  think  we  could  reach  my  studio," — he  hesitated, 
— "  but— if— 

"  I  will  be  very  grateful  to  you,  Monsieur,"  said 
Mademoiselle  de  Brassac. 

"  Then  we  must  look  for  a  cab  on  the  quay,"  and 
giving  her  his  arm  once  more,  he  cautiously  ap 
proached  the  river.  "  If  Raoul  Rigault's  spies  have 
found  out  where  I  live,"  he  thought,  "  the  quays  will 
be  watched.  That  may  be  the  reason  why  the  pur 
suit  fell  off."  With  his  heart  in  his  mouth,  therefore^ 
he  made  his  way  to  a  long  line  of  cabs,  selected  one 
and  hailed  the  driver. 

"  Can  you  get  us  through  the  barricades  to  the 
rue  de  Sfax?  " 

The  cabby  shook  his  head.  "  Not  for  all  your 
money,  Monsieur,"  he  grinned. 

"  Very  well.  Then  70  rue  Notre  Dame.  Drive 
fast!" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HEMMED  IN. 

IT  was  midnight  when  the  cab  drew  up  before  the 
ivy-covered  alley  which  leads  past  the  porter's 
lodge  to  the  white-walled  garden  and  Landes' 
studio.  Joseph  answered  the  gate  bell,  stared  an 
instant,  and,  quickly  comprehending,  received  them 
with  devotion. 

"  We  were  separated  from  Mr.  Ellice  and  the  rest, 
and  the  barricades  cut  us  off  from  Mr.  Ellice's  studio 
— so  we  had  to  come  here,"  said  Landes. 

"  Bon  !  Monsieur  Philip,"  replied  Joseph,  and  fol 
lowed  reverentially  as  the  young  man  led  his  guest 
between  the  ivy-hung  walls,  into  the  glimmering 
garden,  and  across  to  the  studio  door. 

"It  is  very  dark,"  said  Landes,  entering  first  and 
drawing  the  shade  from  the  glass  roof  to  the  exten 
sion,  to  let  in  a  bit  of  palely  lighted  midnight  sky. 
41  Please  stand  still  a  moment — now  give  me  your 
hand."  And  he  guided  her  to  a  chair. 

The  concierge  lighted  a  lamp,  set  a  match  to  the 
fire,  and  departed,  saying  to  Philip  as  he  passed  him 
that  he  would  bring  hot  water  for  tea. 

"Thank  you,  Joseph,"  said  Philip,  in  a  low  voice, 
and  the  faithful  one  withdrew  on  tiptoe. 

The  lamp-light  filled  one  side  of  the  studio  with 
164 


HEMMED   IN.  165 


a  warm  glow,  leaving  the  other  side  full  of  shadow. 
In  the  fireplace  little  blue  flames  and  thin  spirals  of 
smoke  were  curling  up.  Jeanne  de  Brassac  leaned 
back  in  her  chair  with  closed  eyes  and  white  face. 
Philip  stood  and  looked  at  her.  As  he  realized  the 
unsuitableness  of  her  surroundings,  the  color  flashed 
to  the  roots  of  his  hair.  But  there  was  no  time  for 
reflection  ;  Joseph  came  in  again,  bringing  a  tea-kettle 
and  an  alcohol  lamp,  and  the  duties  of  a  host  became 
imperative. 

While  the  tea  was  being  made  and  drunk,  Joseph, 
stopping  now  and  then  to  exchange  a  murmured 
word  with  Landes,  was  passing  quickly  and  quietly 
up  and  down  a  quaint  staircase  with  a  carved  wooden 
balustrade,  which  led  from  the  lower  end  of  the 
studio  up  to  a  small  landing  and  a  door.  Presently 
his  journeyings  ceased,  and  with  a  bow  full  of  fatherly 
kindness  and  profound  respect  to  the  young  lady, 
he  said,  "Good-night,  Monsieur  Philip,"  and  disap 
peared.  Then  Landes  turned  timidly  to  his  guest. 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  regret  exceedingly  that  it  was 
impossible  for  us  to  join  the  others  at  Mr.  Ellice's 
studio — but  at  least  you  are  safe  here — for  a  day  or 
two,  until  we  can  find  an  opportunity  for  your  escape 
to  Chartres.  There  is  a  room  at  the  head  of  that 
staircase  which  I  beg  to  place  at  your  disposal.  I 
shall  be  below  here,  in  the  room  yonder,  or  else  in 
this  room.  You  can  rest  peacefully,  for  Joseph  and 
I  will  keep  watch.  I  cannot  express,"  he  added  in  a 
voice  of  deep  feeling,  "  my  sense  of  the  unfitness  of 
this  place,  and  my  regret  that  it  is  all  I  have  to  offer 
you." 


1 66  THE   RED  REPUBLIC. 


Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  rose  and  held  out  her 
hand.  The  lamp-light  shone  full  in  her  violet  eyes 
as  she  raised  them  to  Philip ;  here  face  was  white 
with  the  pallor  of  physical  and  mental  exhaustion, 
and  she  drooped  a  little  as  she  stood.  Her  bearing 
combined  the  exquisite  docility  of  a  convent-bred 
girl  with  the  dignity  of  a  very  young  lady.  "  It 
seems  to  me,  Monsieur,"  she  said,  "  that  it  is  I  who 
shall  never  be  able  to  express  my  gratitude.  May  I 
go  to  my  room  now?  " 

Landes  took  up  a  lighted  candle  and  asked  diffi 
dently  if  he  might  show  her  the  way.  She  thanked 
him  and  followed  up  the  stair.  He  could  feel  her 
lean  wearily  on  the  balustrade,  and  hear  her  little 
tired  feet  drag.  He  paused  on  the  landing  for  her 
to  join  him,  and  then  opening  the  door  stood  aside 
for  her  to  enter.  A  glow  and  crackle  of  wood  fire 
from  the  hearth  came  out,  and  the  setter  puppy 
rushed  frantically  forward,  seizing  her  dress.  Jeanne 
uttered  a  cry  and  stooped  toward  him  :  the  large 
yellow  cat  rose  on  the  bed  opposite,  stretched,  and 
blinked.  "  Oh,  Tcherka !  Tcherka  !  "  cried  the  girl, 
stepping  swiftly  forward,  and  took  the  cat  in  her 
arms.  Then  she  sank  down  sobbing  beside  the  bed, 
Landes  set  the  light  on  a  table  and  went  away, 
closing  the  door  softly. 

The  long  strain  had  told.  At  the  sight  of  those 
helpless  creatures  the  last  remnant  of  her  courage 
broke  down  ;  she  lay  with  her  face  buried  in  Tcherka's 
soft  fur,  and  gave  way  to  bitter  grief  for  her  dead 
father. 

Landes,  standing  in  the  studio  below,  listened  to 


HEMMED  IN,  l6/ 


her  desolate  weeping  as  long  as  he  could  bear  it, 
then  with  his  own  eyes  full  of  tears,  he  caught  up 
his  hat  and  went  to  find  the  concierge. 

Joseph  was  fussing  about  the  gate  with  a  lan 
tern.  A  late  half-moon  had  risen  just  above  the 
house-tops. 

"  Joseph  !  "  said  Landes,  irritably,  stamping  along 
the  walk.  "  What  the  devil  are  you  doing  ?  Go  to 
bed  !  "  The  faithful  one  circled  respectfully  around 
Landes  and  touched  his  cap. 

"  You  walk  like  an  eagle  in  the  Jardin  des 
Plantes  !  "  said  Landes,  with  a  nervous  laugh  ;  "  stop 
it  and  tell  me  what  you  are  doing  here  at  one  o'clock 
in  the  morning  !  " 

"  Monsieur  Philip,  I  was  fixing  a  padlock  on  the 
gate.  The  street  below  near  the  rue  Vavin  is  full 
of  soldiers.  Hark !  do  you  hear  the  sound  of  the 
picks?  " 

An  icy  chill  ran  down  Landes'  spinal  column. 
"  What  are  they  doing  with  picks?  " 

J<  Making  a  barricade ;  a  fine  one,  you  can  see 
them  from  the  middle  of  the  street.  They  are  down 
by  the  convent,  just  around  the  curve.  Listen  !  " 
Through  the  silence  came  the  sharp  clink  !  clink ! 
of  steel  pick-axes  striking  granite;  and  while  he  lis 
tened  to  that,  another  sound  began  and  increased — 
the  distant  noise  of  an  approaching  throng.  Nearer 
it  came  and  nearer,  and  now  he  could  distinguish 
the  measured  cadence  of  marching  feet,  the  short, 
sharp  clank  of  trailing  scabbards,  and  the  rumble  of 
artillery. 

"  Put  out  that  light !     They  are  coming  up  this 


1 68  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


street ! "  Joseph  obeyed  in  silence.  Nearer  and 
nearer  came  the  clanking,  jangling  cannon,  the 
trample  of  horses,  the  jingle  of  bit  and  spur,  until 
the  echoes  awoke  among  the  opposite  houses,  and 
the  whole  air  vibrated  with  the  clash  of  steel. 

A  shadowy  figure  rode  straight  up  the  street, 
horse  and  rider  pale  in  the  moonlight  ;  another  rider 
followed,  then  two  more,  then  three,  then  a  dozen, 
and  still  they  came,  shrouded  in  heavy  cloaks,  their 
long  sabres  hanging  straight  down  behind  their 
spurred  boots,  clouds  of  frosty  steam  streaming  from 
nostril  and  flank. 

Cannon  were  passing  too,  pieces  of  seven,  long 
and  wicked,  mitrailleuses,  shapeless  dark  lumps  on 
wheels,  with  queer  little  toy  caissons  trailing  be 
hind. 

Along  the  sidewalk  shuffled  the  insurgent  infantry, 
thin  men  with  hollow  eyes  that  turned  in  their 
sockets  like  those  of  the  very  sick  or  insane. 

Before  the  rear-guard  had  passed,  the  ominous 
clank  of  pick-axes  and  crowbars  was  renewed,  but 
this  time  it  came  from  the  head  of  the  column, 
which  seemed  to  have  reached  the  intersection  of 
the  rue  Notre  Dame  and  the  rue  Bara. 

"  They  are  barricading  the  street  at  both  ends! 
We  are  hemmed  in  !  "  whispered  Landes. 

Someone  came  to  the  gate  and  hammered  on  it 
with  the  butt  of  a  revolver.  Landes  stepped  into 
the  porter's  lodge  and  listened  from  the  doorway. 

"Quiet  there !"  growled  Joseph,  shuffling  about 
noisily  in  his  sabots.  "  Who  is  it  ? ' 

"  Sorry  to  disturb  you,  citizen  !  "  came  the  cheery 


HEMMED  IN.  169 


answer,  with  a  strong  English  accent ;  "  can  you  give 
me  a  drink  of  water  ?  " 

Landes  sprang  to  the  gate.  "  Wilton  !  Oh,  I  am 
glad  to  see  you  !  Come  in  !  "  Joseph  opened  the 
gate  and  Philip  dragged  the  new-comer  into  the 
porter's  lodge.  By  the  candle  light  he  appeared  a 
sturdy  bright-eyed  youth  in  a  Colonel's  uniform  of 
the  National  Guard. 

"  Why,  Philip,  old  man !  I  did  n't  know  you  were 
in  Paris  yet." 

"  Well  I  am,  and  a  suspect  of  your  damned  Com 
mune." 

"  Rubbish  !  "  began  Wilton,  but  on  seeing  Landes' 
face  he  frowned  and  whistled. 

"  You  're  a  Colonel,  Archie — you  ought  to  be  able 
to  help  me." 

"What  did  you  do?" 

"  Nothing, — insulted  Raoul  Rigault  several  days 
ago  and  punched  his  head  to-night,  punched  a 
Federal  sentinel  in  the  nose  and  took  away  his  rifle, 
punched  Tribert,  Colonel  of  the  265th,  in  the 
nose " 

Wilton  burst  into  a  wild  shriek  of  laughter  and 
fell  helplessly  against  the  wall. 

"What  the  devil  are  you  making  that  row  for? 
Do  you  want  to  have  the  pickets  down  on  us?  "  said 
Landes,  angrily.  Joseph,  astonished  and  motionless, 
looked  on  with  melancholy  disapproval. 

"  Go  on,  Philip  !  "  gasped  Wilton.  "  Oh,  don't  let 
me  interrupt  you  !  " 

"  There  's  nothing  more,  except  that  a  trio  of  cut 
throats  are  waiting  to  cut  mine — and  also,  as  I  was 


I/O  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


mixed  up  in  the  Montmartre  business,  I  'm  a  marked 
man  on  that  score  too." 

"  Well,  you  have  managed  to  put  your  foot  in 
pretty  deep.  How  did  it  come  about?" 

As  briefly  as  possible  Landes  explained  the  whole 
situation,  and  demanded  his  countryman's  advice 
and  aid. 

"  You  shall  have  it,  my  dear  fellow  !  You  shall 
have  all  the  help  I  can  give  you.  But  how  much 
that  will  be  and  how  long  it  will  last  I  can't  tell. 
The  Commune  watches  us  foreign  officers  like  a  cat. 
To-day  Dombrowski  is  General  (and  a  devilish  good 
one  !) — to-morrow  the  Central  Committee  may  shoot 
him.  To-day  Frankenberg,  Smitz,  and  your  humble 
servant  are  Colonels — to-morrow  we  may  be  kicking 
our  heels  in  the  Mazas  Prison." 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  come  to  enter  the 
Federal  army,  Archie  ?  " 

"  It  was  Gustave  Courbet.  He  got  me  my  com 
mission." 

"  But  what  did  you  do  it  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  like  the  fun." 

"Fun!" 

"  Well,  excitement.  I  'm  a  rotten  painter,  but  I 
think  I  '11  make  a  good  soldier." 

"  Pity  you  did  n't  find  that  out  in  time  to  go  to 
West  Point." 

"  I  know  it.  But  after  all,  what  's  the  difference? 
It 's  all  fighting." 

"And  a  little  parading?"  laughed  Landes. 

"  Yes.  I  like  a  red-banded  cap  and  a  sword  bang 
ing  about  my  heels." 


HEMMED  IN.  I/I 

"  But  it 's  a  shame  to  see  you  among  those  thugs ! 
I  tell  you  the  Commune  fouled  its  hands  to  the  bone 
in  the  bloody  work  on  Montmartre !  " 

"  It  was  foul  work,"  said  Wilton,  soberly,  "  and 
they  '11  have  to  pay  for  it.  After  the  elections  we 
will  rout  out  these  assassins  and  purge  every  bat 
talion.  Anyway,  you  know  every  great  cause  is 
injured  by  those  who  use  its  name  to  cloak  their 
crimes,"  added  Archie,  pompously. 

"  I  think  I  Ve  heard  Mademoiselle  Faustine 
Courtois  make  a  similar  observation,"  smiled 
Landes. 

"  No  doubt !     No  doubt !     We  think  alike." 

"  And  Ynes  Falaise, — do  you  and  she  also — think 
alike  ?  " 

"  By  jove  !  is  n't  she  a  darling?     So  clever  too!  " 

u  Yes,"  said  Philip,  "  I  hear  she  admires  your 
uniform." 

"  Does  she?  Well,  it  is  handsome,"  cried  Archie, 
with  a  boyish  movement.  "  I  had  the  galons  put  on 
myself.  And  look  at  those  boots  !  They  cost  one 
hundred  and  fifty  francs.  What  are  you  grinning 
at  ?  Think  a  man  can't  fight — 

"  I  think  you  '11  fight  as  well  in  boots  at  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  francs,  as  at  fifteen  francs — and  that  's 
like  a  little  devil  when  you  get  going.  But  what 
good  will  your  boots  and  your  galons  do  me?  And 
how  will  they  help  this  young  lady  to  get  out  of 
Paris?  That  's  what  I  want  to  know." 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Philip  ?  "  asked  Wilton, 
with  a  frank  smile. 

"  Was  that  your  battalion  that  just  passed  ?  " 


1/2  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


"  The  Infantry  ?  Yes,  the  266th  de  marche.  We 
left  three  hundred  men  at  the  War  Ministry." 

"  Yes,"  thought  Philip,  grimly,  "  I  saw  some  of 
them.  What  are  they  going  to  do  ? "  he  asked 
aloud. 

"  The  engineers  are  closing  this  street  at  both  ends 
with  barricades,  and  my  men  escorted  the  artillery 
which  is  to  man  them." 

"  Both  ends  of  the  rue  Notre  Dame  are  barri 
caded  ?" 

"  They  will  be  by  morning." 

"Are  you  to  command  here?" 

"  Don't  know." 

"  Can  you  give  my  concierge  a  pass  to  go  and  get 
food  for  us?  " 

"  To  clear  the  barricades  ?  Oh,  yes  !  Anything 
else  ?  " 

"Can  you  keep  the  Federals  out  of  the  house?" 

"  Yes,  what  else  ?  " 

"  Well.  I  want  to  communicate  with  the  Ameri 
can  Minister.  First  I  want  to  place  Mademoiselle  de 
Brassac  under  his  protection,  and  next  I  want  to  get 
out  of  the  city  myself.  It  's  damned  unpleasant.  I 
dare  not  go  out  by  daylight.  If  I  were  recognized 
and  Raoul  Rigault  caught  me,  all  the  officers  of  the 
National  Guard  could  n't  save  me." 

"  Does  Rigault  know  where  you  live?  If  he  does 
I  'm  afraid  my  protection  won't  count  for  much." 

"  Unless  his  spies  have  found  out  within  twenty- 
four  hours,  he  does  n't.  If  he  had  known  he  would 
have  sent  for  me  when  he  did  for  Marsy.  I  came 
here  during  the  siege,  from  the  Hotel  du  Mont 


HEMMED  IN.  1/3 


Blanc.  The  police  were  thinking  of  other  things 
and  the  whole  city  was  dodging  shells.  I  never  in 
scribed  myself  and  nobody  asked  any  questions. 
Faustine  and  Ynes,  Jack  Ellice,  and  one  or  two 
other  Americans,  are  all  who  ever  knew  where  I 
lived.  My  letters  go  to  the  bank,  and  the  only 
address  they  have  at  the  bank  is  the  old  one.  Per 
haps  I  might  go  at  night  to  the  Legation.  Of  course 
the  postal  union  is  watched." 

"  Of  course, — and  the  telegraph.  As  for  the  Lega 
tion,  it  is  surrounded  by  a  perfect  pest  of  spies.  The 
whole  city  is  swarming  with  them.  We  foreigners 
of  the  army  are  forbidden  to  hold  any  communication 
or  even  approach  within  half  a  mile  of  any  foreign 
legation,  except  under  orders.  But  it  seems  to  me 
you  will  be  safe  here  for  the  present  if  you  keep  close. 
Your  concierge  will  have  the  pass  to  come  and  go. 
Is  he  faithful?" 

"  Joseph  is  as  true  as  steel  and  as  good  as  gold  !  " 
said  Landes  in  French,  smiling  at  him.  Joseph's 
anxious  and  disapproving  face  cleared  up. 

"Well,  then,  all  I  have  to  do  is  to  tell  Raoul 
Rigault,  when  it  comes  handy,  that  you  've  been 
seen  in  Versailles,  and  he  '11  be  off  the  scent — for  a 
while.  And  I  '11  manage  to  keep  other  intruders 
away  from  here  as  long  as  I  am  in  the  neighborhood. 
And  I  '11  do  my  best  to  get  word  to  the  American 
Minister,  but — there  I  'm  doubtful.  It  's  this  infer 
nal,  ridiculous  Bergeret  who  makes  all  the  trouble. 
He  's  jealous  of  all  the  foreign  officers.  Dombrow- 
ski  's  a  soldier — but  Bergeret  would  make  an  army 
mule  shed  tears." 


1/4  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Wilton  picked  up  his  sword  and  moved  to  the  gate, 
accompanied  by  Philip.  Joseph  met  them  with  a 
bottle  in  his  hand. 

"  Monsieur  the  Colonel  asks  for  water,"  he  said, 
humbly.  "  but  I,  Joseph  Lelocard,  am  proud  to  offer 
Monsieur  the  Colonel  this  wine  of  Burgundy."  Wil 
ton  took  the  bottle,  coolly  knocked  off  the  neck, 
filled  a  china  bowl  with  the  wine,  and  swallowed  it 
to  the  last  drop. 

"  That,"  he  said,  "  was  drunk  to  the  health  and 
prosperity  of  every  one  in  this  house.  It  's  good 
wine,  and  you  're  a  good  fellow,  Joseph.  Good 
night,  Philip,  old  chap  !  Good-night,  Joseph — I 
should  say — er — Citizen,"  and  he  clanked  away, 
whistling  "  Marching  through  Georgia,"  with  all  the 
power  of  his  lungs. 

Landes  listened  until  far  up  the  street  he  heard 
him  break  off  whistling  to  give  some  order  in  a  loud, 
happy,  boyish  voice. 

"  Joseph,"  said  Landes,  looking  at  the  concierge 
who  was  looking  at  the  clock  on  the  wall  of  his 
lodge,  "  Joseph,  I  would  give  half  I  'm  worth  if 
you  had  not  sent  your  wife  and  children  away 
just  yet." 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"  But  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  will  only  be  de 
tained  here  a  day  or  two.  We  will  do  our  best  to 
\nake  her  forget  how  rough  her  quarters  are." 

"Certainly,  Monsieur." 

"  Well,  now  go  to  bed  and  have  breakfast  at  nine, 
coffee,  hot  rolls,  eggs  on  toast,  fruit,  brioche,  meat 
for  the  cat,  and  bread  and  milk  for  the  puppy,  with  a 


HEMMED  IN.  1/5 

bone  scraped  clean — how  dare  you  yawn  when  I  'm 
speaking  !  " 

"  Pardon.  I  did  not,  Monsieur.  It  was  astonish 
ment  and  admiration  that  Monsieur  forgets  nothing." 

"  It  's  nearly  three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Don't 
rise  early.  I  think  we  are  safe  and  may  rest.  Go  to 
bed,  and  don't  walk  like  a  bald-headed  eagle !  "  he 
broke  off  nervously. 

"  Good-night,  Monsieur  Philip,"  said  Joseph,  de 
votedly  ;  "  sleep  well,  Monsieur  Philip." 

"And  you  too,  my  good  Joseph.     Good-night." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

JEANNE  DE  BRASSAC. 

THE  morning  air  had  been  sharp  and  a  wood  fire 
crackled  on  the  hearth,  as  Philip,  fresh  from 
his  cold  bath,  walked  out  into  the  studio. 
Sunlight  fell  in  golden  squares  and  diamonds  on 
the  floor,  and  through  the  glass  roof  of  the  extension 
he  could  see  blue  sky,  spring-like  and  cloudless.  The 
studio  was  silent  and  empty.  He  looked  up  at 
Jeanne  de  Brassac's  door.  On  the  landing  sat 
Tcherka  in  a  patch  of  sunshine  and  blinked  at  him 
through  the  railings,  her  splendid  green  eyes  follow 
ing  his  movements  with  pleasant  indifference.  Un 
willing  to  raise  his  voice  in  calling  her,  he  held  out 
his  hand.  She  retained  her  seat  and  her  serene 
composure.  But  when  he  ostentatiously  brought  a 
bowl  and  set  it  on  the  hearth  and  filled  it  full  of 
milk,  then  Tcherka's  voice  could  have  been  heard  as 
far  as  the  rue  Bara,  while  she  trotted  down  with  her 
tail  erect.  At  the  same  moment  the  door  above 
opened  a  little  way  and  the  setter  puppy  charged 
out,  fell  most  of  the  way  downstairs  and  hurled  him 
self  first  upon  Landes  and  then  on  the  bowl  of  milk. 
Tcherka,  much  annoyed,  drew  back,  her  ears  flat, 
her  dainty  pink  tongue  half  out.  The  puppy  gulped 
and  lapped  and  slobbered  and  wagged.  A  low 

176 


JEANNE  DE  BRASSAC.  1 77 

rumble  came  from  Tcherka.  Landes  laughed  quietly, 
brought  a  fresh  saucer  of  milk  for  her,  and  stood 
guard  over  it  until  she  had  polished  the  china  clean. 
Then  he  opened  the  door  which  led  into  the  garden, 
and  Tcherka  walked  out  to  stretch  her  claws  on  the 
rose  bushes,  while  the  puppy  rolled  on  the  gravel 
and  dug  important  holes  under  the  trees. 

Joseph  came  in  with  a  tray  of  fresh  glass  and  silver 
and,  spreading  a  white  damask  cloth  over  the 
Japanese  table,  proceeded  to  arrange  the  breakfast. 

"  Did  you  have  any  trouble  in  clearing  the  barri 
cades  ?  " 

"  No,  Monsieur  Philip,  an  orderly  came  with  a 
pass  early  this  morning,  good  for  two  weeks  and  to 
be  renewed  when  we  desire  it." 

"  What  is  the  news  ?  " 

"  The  elections  are  for  to-morrow.  There  is  talk 
also  of  a  sortie  to  Versailles." 

"  What  for  ?  "  said  Philip,  contemptuously. 

"To  catch  Monsieur  Thiers,  parbleu  !  " 

"  Nonsense !  ' 

"  They  say  now  is  the  time,  before  the  troops 
come  back  from  Germany.  They  say  he  has  n't  got 
much  of  an  army  now.  Shall  I  light  the  coffee 
machine?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  but  while  he  spoke,  looking  up  to  the 
landing  above,  the  door  opened  and  Jeanne  de 
Brassac  stepped  out.  She  leaned  on  the  wooden 
railing  and  looked  down  into  the  studio  as  Landes 
sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Good-morning,  Monsieur  Landes  !  May  I  come 
down  ?  " 


1/8  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Indeed  I  beg  you  will!  "  he  stammered,  bowing 
and  walking  to  the  foot  of  the  stair. 

One  white  hand  held  lightly  to  the  balustrade,  her 
face  was  bent  a  little  timidly,  as  she  descended, 
Philip  watching  her.  He  had  not  imagined  she  was 
so  beautiful.  Her  glorious  hair  was  drawn  back 
from  a  pure  white  forehead  low  but  full,  and  her  eyes, 
her  violet  eyes,  which  he  remembered  when  she  was 
Victor's  little  sister,  were  filled  with  a  light  so  sweet 
and  serene,  that  he  turned  his  own  eyes  away, 
troubled  before  so  pure  a  gaze. 

At  the  foot  of  the  staircase  she  gave  him  her  hand, 
and  he  led  her  to  an  arm-chair  before  the  fire,  stand 
ing  beside  her  when  she  was  seated. 

"  Are  you  rested,  Mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  Yes, — and  better,  much  better,"  she  answered 
quietly.  "Are  you,  Monsieur  Landes?  You  can 
hardly  be  rested,  after — after  all  you  did  !  "  The 
open  trust  and  admiration  of  her  look  and  the  soft- 
falling  inflection  of  her  voice  made  the  young  man 
flush  up  with  embarrassment  and  pleasure.  "  And 
you  must  have  missed  your  room.  I  am  so  sorry  to 
disturb  you." 

"  Pardon.  I  am  thoroughly  rested.  And  my  room 
is  over  there,"  pointing  to  a  curtain  which  half  con> 
cealed  a  door  in  the  rear  of  the  studio.  "  The  room 
which  you  do  me  the  honor  to  occupy  has  never  been 
used  before  since  I  came  here.  I  feared  it  would  be 
hardly  comfortable.  So  small  and " 

"  It  is  perfect.  And  what  a  beautiful  studio.  I 
was  never  in  an  artist's  studio  before.  I  should  have 
seen  Victor's  if  he  had  lived  to  come  home,"  she 
added  sadly. 


JEANNE  DE  BRASSAC.  1/9 

"  Breakfast  is  served,  Monsieur  Philip,"  said  Jo 
seph.  Landes  offered  his  arm  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Brassac  and  led  her  out  into  the  glass-roofed  exten 
sion  where  the  table  stood.  Sunshine  sparkled  among 
the  silverware,  the  china,  and  slender  glass ;  the  cof 
fee  machine  was  steaming.  Outside  the  window,  on 
top  of  an  almond-tree,  the  blackbird  was  doing  his 
best  at  a  solo,  with  a  confident  eye  on  Tcherka  who 
stalked  him  eagerly  below. 

"  She  will  never  catch  him,"  said  Landes. 

"  But — she  is  very  cruel  all  the  same — I  must  teach 
her  better." 

"  I  fear  that 's  a  lesson  she  can't  learn,"  laughed 
Philip. 

He  dismissed  Joseph  and  served  his  guest  himself. 
At  first  they  were  quiet  and  a  little  reserved,  and  ate 
almost  silently.  After  a  while  he  said  : 

"  When  I  last  had  the  honor  of  breakfasting  with 
Mademoiselle  de  Brassac,  she  was  a  very  young  lady 
indeed — I  think  she  wore  pinafores,"  he  added, 
venturing  on  a  jesting  tone.  It  was  taken  up  with 
ready  tact. 

"  No,  she  had  discarded  those  at  the  last  school 
term.  But  I  won't  deny  she  had  her  hair  in  plaits. 
And  I  know  she  thought  her  brother  Victor's  Ameri 
can  friend  a  very  old  gentleman  indeed  !  " 

"  But  you  played  for  him  !  " 

"  You  remember  that !  Oh,  I  took  great  pains 
for  the  American  gentleman, — I  wanted  to  please 
him,  with  my  tiresome  little  music  !  " 

"  Tiresome  !  Not  that,  Mademoiselle  !  And  in 
the  evenings  you  sang  '  Carcasonne  '- 

"  For  my  father  !  "  she  added  quickly  ;  her  face  fell. 


180  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


11 1  have  always  remembered  that  Christmas  week," 
said  Landes,  gently,  "  your  parents  and  their  kind 
ness,  Victor,  who  was  my  best  friend,  and — and 
you." 

"  Victor  was  always  talking  of  you  before  you 
came,  and  after  your  visit  I  often  heard  my  parents 
speaking  of  you  in — in  the  same  way.  As  for  me, 
I  could  not  have  believed  that  you  would  remember 
such  a  little  convent  girl.  You  seemed  so  very  wise, 
and  oh  !  so  tall !  Dear  me,  how  little  I  was  then.  Am 
I  not  almost  as  tall  as  you  are  now,  Monsieur 

" — Philip,"  he  entreated. 

"  Monsieur  Philip,"  she  said,  with  a  charming 
smile,  rising  and  moving  lightly  about  the  studio, 
touching  a  sketch  here,  a  bit  of  carving  or  porcelain 
there,  picking  up  and  glancing  at  a  sheet  of  music 
which  lay  on  the  piano  in  one  corner.  Landes  stood 
and  looked  after  her,  uncertain  what  to  say  or  do 
next.  What  tone  should  he  take?  How  should  he 
tell  to  her  the  things  which  she  must  hear — how  ask 
her  to  tell  him  the  things  which  it  was  necessary  for 
him  to  know  if  he  was  to  be  of  service  to  her?  He 
was  a  man  who  dreaded  stiffness  and  hated  self-con 
sciousness,  but  here  was  a  situation  which  seemed 
unavoidably  full  of  both.  Thus  far  the  fine  breed 
ing  and  sweet  tact  of  this  young  lady  had  placed 
and  kept  them  in  the  apparent  relations  of  every 
day  host  and  hostess.  But  that  could  not  last.  As 
he  looked  at  her  dainty  head  and  self-possessed  little 
figure,  good  heavens  !  how  he  dreaded  to  see  the 
first  painful  flush  that  should  betray  she  felt  the  im 
possible  situation  ! 


JEANNE  DE  BRASS  AC,  l8l 


She  had  been  standing  with  her  back  to  him,  ab 
sorbed  it  seemed  in  examining  the  black  carved  panels 
of  an  old  Breton  armoire.  Suddenly  she  turned  and 
came  toward  him  ;  he  advanced  to  meet  her.  She 
paused  as  they  met  beside  an  easel.  Leaning  one 
hand  upon  it,  with  that  pretty  trick  she  had,  she  held 
out  the  other  hand  with  a  gesture  full  of  generous 
emotion. 

"Ah!  How  can  I  tell  you  what  I  feel!  Can  I 
ever  thank  you  enough  ?  " 

"You  thank  me  far  more  than  I  deserve — you 
make  me  happier  than  I  ever — ever " 

"  See  how  embarrassed  you  are ! "  she  cried,  a 
wonderful  light  in  her  sweet  eyes.  "  All  brave  men 
are  so  when  one  tries  to  praise  them  a  little." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  interrupted,  "  if  you  will  talk 
of  courage  I  must  say  to  you  that  your  bearing  last 
night  was  beyond  belief." 

"  That  was  not  courage." 

"  Was  n't  it  ?     It  looked  very  like  courage." 

"  No,  it  was  contempt.  When  the  door  broke 
down  I  thought  it  was  Tribert  come  back  as  he  had 
threatened.  Do  you  think  I  would  let  him  see  I 
cared  for  anything  he  could  do  ?  And  when  you 
and  the  strange  officer  entered " 

"  On  our  heads,"  said  Philip,  and  a  laugh  relieved 
the  tension  of  their  feelings. 

"  We  owe  you  many  apologies  for  that  per 
formance,"  he  continued,  "  but  your  composure 
was  wonderful.  And  afterward, — your  father  would 
have  been  proud  of  you  on  the  retreat,  Mademoi 
selle." 


1 82  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


Having  turned  the  tables  successfully  he  went  on, 
not  giving  her  time  to  speak  : 

"  And  since  it  appears  we  are  to  serve  together  a 
while  longer,  shall  we  hold  a  council  of  war  now  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  that  is  a  council  where  you  will  tell  me 
what  should  be  done,  and  I  shall  agree  to  everything 
you  advise,"  she  smiled,  taking  the  chair  he  set  for 
her  with  instant  acquiescence,  all  her  attention  con 
centrated  on  what  he  had  to  say. 

Landes  felt  his  excited  nerves  calmed  and  steadied, 
and  the  dreaded  interview  began  to  look  less  alarm 
ing. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  Philip  sat 
smoking  on  the  rim  of  the  fountain.  Mademoiselle 
de  Brassac  was  in  the  studio  resting  among  the 
cushions  of  the  divan,  with  Tcherka  beside  her.  She 
had  promised  not  to  stir  until  Philip  gave  her  leave. 
He  sat  and  smoked  and  thought,  and  tried  to  arrange 
things  in  his  mind. 

Summed  up,  this  was  the  substance  of  what  she 
had  told  him.  Returning  from  the  death-bed  of  her 
father,  bewildered  with  grief  and  fright,  she  had  shut 
herself  for  the  rest  of  the  night  in  her  apartments  at 
the  Hotel  Perret,  and  refused  to  see  even  her  maid, 
Marie.  Next  morning  the  woman,  who  was  very 
faithful,  insisted  on  calling  her  mistress'  attention  to 
the  diamonds.  She  was  carrying  them  about  with  her 
in  a  small  black  hand-bag,  and  she  begged  Mademoi 
selle  de  Brassac  to  say  what  should  be  done  with  them. 
"  I  could  not  say, — I  did  not  care,"  said  the  young 
lady,  looking  pitifully  at  Philip,  her  lips  trembling ; 
"  they  had  cost  my  father  his  life."  Then  came  offi- 


JEANNE   DE  BRASS  AC.  183 

cers  from  the  government,  asking  questions  and  giving 
orders.  "  They  acted  so  strangely,"  Jeanne  contin 
ued  ;  "they  would  not  let  my  father  be  buried  at 
Chartres,  they  would  not  permit  any  of  our  friends 
to  be  sent  for.  Marie  begged  them  to  put  me  under 
the  protection  of  an  older  lady.  We  have  no  rela 
tions  in  Paris,  but  she  mentioned  one  or  two  friends 
of  my  mother's,  and  wanted  to  go  to  them  for  me. 
She  was  always  put  off,  sometimes  with  the  pretext 
that  the  lady  she  mentioned  was  not  in  Paris,  some 
times  by  a  direct  refusal,  without  any  excuse.  Marie 
said  if  the  government  had  committed  the  crime 
themselves  they  could  not  have  been  more  secret 
about  it.  They  hurried  my  father's  funeral,  and 
took  him  away  the  evening  after  he  died.  Then 
they  came  and  said  I  must  return  next  day  to  Char 
tres.  Marie  got  our  things  ready,  and  all  the  time 
she  kept  talking  about  the  diamonds,  and  how  un 
safe  it  was  to  carry  them  in  that  little  hand-bag. 
Once,  teazed  by  her  importunity,  I  said,  '  why  do 
you  not  send  them  to  the  Bank  of  France  as  my 
father  intended  to  do?'  But  she  was  very  suspi 
cious  by  nature,  and  the  terrible  event  had  made  her 
more  so.  'No,'  she  cried,  'Monsieur  your  father 
was  trying  for  three  days  to  place  them  there  and 
he  did  not  succeed.  We  will  not  let  them  go  out  of 
our  own  hands  ! '  'As  you  like,'  I  said,  and  went 
on  weeping  for  my  father. 

"  Early  next  morning,  I  sent  an  orderly  to  you 
at  the  Luxembourg.  We  were  intending  to  leave 
for  Chartres  that  afternoon."  "  Why  did  you  send 
away  the  orderly  ?"  Philip  had  inquired;  "  why  not 


1 84  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


have  sent  Marie  ?  "  "  Because  I  thought  the  orderly 
would  go  and  return  much  more  quickly,  and  I  felt 
as  if  I  could  not  spare  Marie.  I  did  not  want  to  be 
left  quite  alone.  When  he  had  been  gone  only  a 
short  time,  the  maid  began  again  about  the  dia 
monds.  I  was  weeping,  and  I  would  not  listen.  I 
felt  as  if  I  hated  them.  Then  at  last  she  lost  her 
temper, — my  poor  good  Marie, — and  she  said,  '  very 
well,  Mademoiselle,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  you  care 
neither  for  me  nor  for  the  diamonds,  since  you  make 
me  carry  them  about  in  this  dangerous  way ! '  and 
she  shook  the  bag  angrily.  She  walked  out  into  the 
hall  while  she  was  speaking,  and  came  back  instantly, 
very  pale,  followed  by  the  landlord  Ferret. 

"  He  said  he  had  come  to  tell  me  that  the  orderly 
had  not  returned,  but  another  one  had  just  been  sent 
in  haste  from  the  Luxembourg.  Monsieur  Landes 
was  dying  of  his  wound,  and  begged  to  see  me ;  he 
wished  to  speak  to  me  of  my  father.  There  was  no 
time  to  lose — Ferret  said — I  must  go  at  once.  I  told 
him  to  send  the  orderly  to  me.  He  replied  that  the 
man  had  hurried  away  immediately  on  delivering  his 
message.  We  felt  that  there  was  something  wrong. 
But  what  could  we  do  ! — Ah  !  Monsieur  Fhilip,  what 
could  we  two  women  do  ?  Besides,  I  could  not  think 
seriously  of  anything  but  that  you  might  die  before 
I  could  see  and  thank  you.  For  I  too  had  a  message 
from  my  father  for  you." 

Tears  filled  her  eyes  as  she  looked  down,  sitting 
still  with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap  until  she  was 
able  to  control  the  trembling  of  her  lips  once  more. 
Then  she  went  on :  "  Ferret  hurried  off  to  fetch  a 


JEANNE   DE  BRASSAC.  185 

carriage.  Marie  watched  him  down  the  hall  until 
the  door  closed  behind  him.  Then  she  turned  to  me 
in  great  excitement.  '  He  was  standing  in  the  door 
of  the  anteroom,  no  one  knows  how  long.  He  heard 
what  I  said,'  she  murmured ;  '  now  we  must  find 
another  place  for  the  diamonds.'  Then  I  became 
excited  too.  I  did  not  choose  that  they  should  be 
taken  from  me  without  my  consent.  We  looked 
here  and  there— always  in  great  haste,  expecting  the 
return  of  Ferret.  There  was  no  hiding-place  any 
where — each  one  proposed  seemed  more  unsafe  than 
the  other.  Marie  ran  to  the  hall  door.  I  heard  Per- 
ret  coming  up  the  stairs  outside.  '  Hurry,  hurry, 
Mademoiselle  !  '  she  whispered.  There  was  an  old 
pistol  which  my  father  had  bought  of  an  antiquary 
to  take  back  to  the  gun-room  at  Chartres  as  a  curi 
osity.  It  hung  on  the  wall  beside  his  dressing-table. 
I  poured  the  diamonds  into  the  long  barrel,  stuffed 
in  a  wad  of  paper,  and  hung  it  back  on  the  wall. 
Monsieur  Ferret  knocked,  Marie  opened  the  door 
and  said,  '  Was  the  carriage  there  ?  if  so  we  were 
ready.  They  will  be  safe  until  we  return,'  she  whis 
pered  to  me,  as  we  followed  Ferret  down  the  stairs. 
He  had  locked  the  door  carefully  and  given  the  key 
to  Marie — who  dropped  it  into  the  little  hand-bag 
as  we  stood  in  the  court.  I  saw  him  look  at  the  bag 
and  then  at  her.  I  wanted  to  go  back, — I  felt — I 
knew  there  was  something  wrong.  But  it  was  too 
late.  Ferret  held  the  carriage  door  (it  was  a  closed 
carriage  which  Ferret  owned  and  drove  himself)  • 
he  helped  us  in  and  mounted  the  box.  As  we  turned 
out  of  the  Place  Pigalle  a  regiment  of  hussars  entered 


1 86  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


the  square.  Marie  suddenly  pulled  my  dress,  leaned 
forward,  and  whispered ;  '  that  is  no  place  to  leave 
the  diamonds,  it  is  the  first  place  any  thief  would 
search.  I  must  go  back  and  get  them.'  '  No,  no  ! ' 
I  said,  '  you  shall  not,  Marie  ! '  But  she  was  a  great 
deal  older  than  I, — she  had  been  my  mother's  maid 
— she  only  obeyed  me  when  she  chose,  she  thought 
she  always  knew  best.  'I  command  you,  Marie! 
I  cried.  Then,  '  you  would  not  leave  me  alone ! ' 
'  Only  one  moment,  dear  Mademoiselle,'  she  whis 
pered  ;  '  there  is  no  danger,  the  hussars  are  standing 
by  the  fountain.  You  are  perfectly  safe  if  I  make 
him  stop  here !  '  And  without  listening  to  me  any 
more  she  spoke  to  Ferret  and  ordered  him  to  stop. 
She  explained  that  she  must  return  for  Mademoi 
selle's  smelling-salts,  they  had  been  forgotten,  and 
Mademoiselle  was  faint ;  and  opening  the  door  she 
almost  flew  back  across  the  square.  I  saw  her  enter 
the  house — poor  Marie ! — and  we  stood  waiting  a 
little  while,  then  Ferret  started  the  horses.  That 
frightened  me  till  I  saw  he  seemed  intending  to  turn 
around.  He  crossed  very  slowly  to  the  other  side 
of  the  street  and  stopped.  From  there  the  hussars 
at  the  fountain  in  the  Place  Pigalle  were  out  of  sight. 
We  were  very  near  a  corner.  All  at  once  Ferret 
lashed  the  horses  and  they  sprang  forward,  turned 
the  corner  sharply  and  wheeled  into  a  court.  It  was 
a  court  surrounded  by  warehouses — I  had  my  hand 
on  the  door,  and  I  called  out.  Two  men  in  the  uni 
form  of  the  National  Guard  sprang  at  me,  forced  me 
back,  entered  the  carriage,  tied  and  gagged  me. 
Ferret  stood  at  the  window  and  looked  in  smiling. 


JEANNE  DE  BRAS  SAC.  l8/ 

They  pulled  down  the  blinds,  someone  on  the 
box  whipped  up  the  horses,  and  they  took  me  to 
the  Impasse  de  la  Mort.  I  was  kept  there  locked 
in  one  room  all  that  day  and  the  next — until  you 
came." 

"  Whom  did  you  see  during  that  time  ?  "  asked 
Philip. 

"  Tribert,  always  Tribert.  He  wanted  to  make  me 
tell  where  the  diamonds  were.  He  said  they  had 
killed  my  father  and  my  maid  for  them,  and  they 
would  kill  me  too  unless  I  confessed  where  the  dia 
monds  were." 

"  I  ought  to  have  killed  him,"  muttered  Philip  to 
himself,  as  he  thought  it  over. 

"  And  the  other  prisoners,"  he  had  asked,  "  Cap 
tain  de  Carette  and  the  lady — 

"  I  did  not  see  them  at  all.  Tribert  said,  when  he 
was  trying  to  frighten  me,  that  they  had  caught  two 
more  aristocrats,  and  meant  to  serve  them  as  they 
would  me.  He  did  not  tell  me  their  names,  and  I 
saw  them  last  night  for  the  first  time." 

Then  Landes  had  explained  who  de  Carette  was, 
who  Ellice  was,  and  how  he  himself  stood  in  relation 
to  Raoul  Rigault.  Finally  came  the  dreaded  an 
nouncement  that  they  were  shut  in  between  two 
barricades,  and  no  course  was  possible  to  them  but 
to  remain  hidden  where  they  were  for  the  present. 
To  his  unspeakable  relief  she  had  received  this  news 
very  quietly.  She  could  hardly  have  been  paler  than 
she  was  already,  but  he  thought  she  looked  a  little 
more  wan  than  before,  as  she  listened,  and  her  soft 
eyes  were  almost  black  as  she  lifted  them  confid- 


1 88  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


ingly  to  his.  But  of  personal  embarrassment,  of 
disagreeable  self-consciousness,  there  was  not  a 
trace,  and  Landes  decided,  as  he  thought  it  over, 
that  this  child  was  the  most  dignified  woman  he 
had  ever  met. 

He  was  still  musing  an  hour  later,  when  Mademoi 
selle  de  Brassac  appeared  in  the  doorway.  "  May  I 
come  out  into  the  garden,  Monsieur  ? "  she  asked, 
smiling  brightly. 

Landes  hastened  to  her.  "  Are  you  rested,  Ma 
demoiselle?  " 

"  Quite  rested." 

"And  you  are  feeling  well?" 

"  Very  well." 

"  Then  will  you  walk  a  little?" 

Long  warm  bars  of  sunlight  lay  across  the  gravel 
as  they  stepped  into  the  garden.  Tcherka  and  the 
puppy  followed  and  made  straight  for  the  almond 
tree,  but  the  blackbird  knew  he  was  safe  and  ruffled 
his  plumes  in  derision. 

The  puppy  remembered  that  the  fountain  was  in 
habited  by  live  creatures  which  had  thus  far  baffled 
investigation,  and  he  poked  his  nose  over  the  stone 
edge,  cocking  his  ears  and  whining.  The  two  gold 
fish  stared  at  him  in  frigid  unconcern  and  sank 
slowly  to  the  bottom.  Their  blase  indifference  was 
more  than  he  could  bear,  and  he  raced  around  the 
basin  with  hysterical  yelps,  but  a  small  black  beetle 
hurrying  along  on  some  pressing  business  engaged 
his  attention  and  he  followed  that  with  enthusiasm 
until  it  ran  into  a  crack  in  the  wall.  Tcherka  sat 
down  in  the  sunshine  and  blinked  amicably  at  the 


JEANNE   DE  BRASS  AC.  189 


blackbird,  who  now,  as  a  precaution,  stood  on  the 
extreme  tip  of  the  almond  tree,  preening  and  prun 
ing  and  uttering  single  liquid  notes. 

The  street  outside  was  very  silent.  At  intervals 
the  challenge  of  a  sentry  came  to  them  faintly  from 
the  direction  of  the  rue  Vavin,  but  the  rue  Notre 
Dame  was  quiet  and  the  stillness  was  only  broken 
by  the  patter  of  the  puppy  over  the  gravel,  and  the 
blackbird's  solitary  note. 

"  Are  you  chilly,  Mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  it  is  warm  here  in  the  sunshine.  Look 
at  the  puppy." 

"  What  do  you  call  him?" 

"  He  has  never  been  named.  Name  him,  Mon 
sieur  Philip.' 

"  I  name  him?  " 

"  Yes,  an  English  name." 

"  Do  you  speak  English?  " 

"  A  little.     I  had  an  English  governess." 

"  Then  if  I  speak  to  you  in  English  will  you  an- 
swer  ?  " 

"  No — not  now — perhaps  some  day.  Please  name 
the  puppy." 

"  A  romantic  name?  " 

"Oh  no." 

"  Commonplace  ?  " 

"  I  shall  not  give  you  any  help." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Rover?  " 

"  Really,"  she  said  disdainfully,  "  all  the  English 
dogs  I  ever  heard  of  were  named  Rover." 

"Sport?" 

"  — Except  Sport  and  Dash.     Now  think !  " 


190  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  We  might  call  him  Mr.  Smith  —  that  is  not  ro 
mantic." 

"All  the  people  in  England  are  named  Smith." 

"  But  all  the  dogs  are  not." 

"  What  a  shame  to  make  fun  of  me.  Name  him 
at  once,  Monsieur." 

"Well  then—  Toodles." 

"  That  is  not  very  pretty,  but  it  will  do,"  she  said 
seriously.  "  How  do  you  pronounce  it?  Too-dell?" 

"  Toodles." 


"  Toodles." 

"  That  is  what  I  say,  Too-dells.  Vien  ici,  mon 
petit  Too-dells.  Ah  !  qu'il  est  laid  ce  nom  !  mon 
pauvre  petit  Too-dells  !  And  did  you  put  those 
goldfish  in  the  fountain  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  are  very  stupid." 

"  Monsieur,  do  you  think  intelligence  necessary  in 
goldfish?  I  begin  to  be  afraid  of  you.  I  am  not 
very  intelligent  either.  But,"  she  continued  with  a 
quick  change  in  her  manner,  "  one  need  not  be  very 
intelligent  to  see  that  you  are  troubled,  even  when 
you  laugh.  Is  there  anything  new?  " 

"Yes.  I  sent  Joseph  to  the  rue  de  Sfax;  he  re 
turned  a  little  while  ago.  The  house  where  Jack 
Ellice  lived  was  sacked  last  night." 

"  Oh  !     What  will  become  of  them  ?  " 

"  I  'd  give  anything  to  know  they  are  safe.  De 
Carette  was  in  no  condition  to  stand  more  rough 
usage.  And  Ellice  —  he  is  brave,  if  you  like,  Ma 
demoiselle.  He  risked  his  life  last  night  from  pure 
chivalry  and  pure  friendship." 


JEANNE  DE  BRASSAC.  IQI 

"  And  the  lady,"  said  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac, 
"oh,  if  they  only  were  all  here  !  " 

"  Well,"  sighed  Philip,  shaking  off  his  depression, 
"  we  must  only  wait  and  hope  for  them  as  well  as  for 
ourselves.  There  are  still  one  or  two  questions  which 
I  should  like  to  ask  you  if  I  may " 

"  Certainly,  Monsieur  Philip." 

"  Where  are  the  settings  to  the  diamonds, — for  I 
take  it  that  your  father  removed  the  stones  for  con 
venience'  sake." 

"  They  are  at  home  in  Chartres.  They  are  very 
old-fashioned;  I  think  they  are  safe,  for  no  one  would 
want  them." 

"  You  told  me  this  morning,  that  Monsieur  de  St. 
Gildas,  your  only  near  relative  and  your  guardian,  is 
still  in  Germany  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  week  ago,  a  prisoner,  and  ill — 

"  But  I  could  write  to  Monsieur  de  St.  Gildas  at 
Chartres,  on  the  chance  of  getting  a  letter  through 
by  paid  messenger." 

"  Yes,  my  cousin  is  in  Chartres,  waiting  for  the 
return  of  her  husband." 

"  One  thing  more.  Your  trunks  are  in  the  Place 
Pigalle.  Will  you  make  out  a  list  for  Joseph,  who 
will  go  to  some  shop  and  bring  you  what  you 
need." 

"  You  are  very  thoughtful,  Monsieur.  I  think  he 
had  better  order  for  me  the  clothes  of  a  working  girl. 
Anything  better  would  attract  suspicion  to  him  buy 
ing  them." 

''Very  true.  You  will  forgive  me  if  I  seem  offi 
cious,  Mademoiselle  ?  " 


IQ2  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

She  looked  at  him  in  amazement,  and  then  clasped 
her  hands  in  the  earnestness  of  her  protest. 

"  Would  I  forgive  my  only  friend,  would  I  forgive 
my  brother  for  taking  care  of  me?  " 

"  My  little  sister  Jeanne,"  said  Landes,  deeply 
moved. 


CHAPTER  X. 

IN  A  GARDEN. 

THE  elections  were  over,  the  farce  finished. 
Out  of  435,000  electors  only  60,000  went 
out  into  the  streets  to  vote  at  the  polls. 
Everywhere  bayonets,  cannon,  and  mitrailleuses 
stared  the  people  in  the  face ;  everywhere  the  bat 
talions  of  the  Commune  were  in  motion  and  the 
ghastly  Hussars  of  Death  galloped  through  the 
trembling  city  with  hoarse  cries  of  menace  or  of 
triumph. 

In  the  midst  of  a  tumult  of  drums  and  bugles, 
salvos  of  artillery  and  Communistic  cheers,  the  last 
vote  was  cast  into  the  urns,  and  the  Hussars  of  Death 
closed  in  around  the  polls.  The  result  was  a  fore 
gone  conclusion.  Ninety-four  members  of  the  Com 
mune  were  elected,  each  ward  naming  members 
according  to  its  population.  Almost  without  excep 
tion  all  the  present  members  of  the  Commune  were 
re-elected. 

The  miserable  city  shuddered. 

Next  day  Landes,  sitting  in  his  garden  with  his 
sketching  easel  before  him,  heard  a  loud  ringing  at 
the  outer  gate,  and  presently  Joseph  came  through 
the  ivy-covered  alley  followed  by  an  officer  of  the 


IQ4  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Commune  in  full  uniform.  It  was  Wilton,  and  Lan- 
des  rose  hastily  to  meet  him. 

"  Philip,"  he  said,  refusing  with  a  gesture  the  prof 
fered  seat,  "  I  only  came  to  tell  you  to  look  out. 
My  battalion  is  ordered  to  the  Fort  of  Issy  to-night 
and  a  new  battalion  will  replace  us  here  at  the  barri 
cade  in  your  street.  I  don't  know  who  is  in  com 
mand  or  what  the  battalion  is,  but  it  will  be  more 
necessary  than  ever  for  you  to  remain  here  out  of 
sight  because  domiciliary  visits  have  begun  and 
Raoul  Rigault  is  filling  the  prisons." 

"  I  hear  from  Joseph  that  he  has  been  confirmed 
as  Chief  of  Police  and  Procureur-Gen£ral  of  the 
Commune.  Is  it  so,  Wilton?" 

"  Oh  yes.  General  Duval  insisted.  He  's  installed 
in  the  Prefecture  of  Police  with  a  gang  of  his  crea 
tures  who  have  nothing  to  learn  in  ferocity  from 
Modoc  Indians.  It  's  a  shame.  Ferre"  and  Henri 
Verlet  are  his  fellow  Public  Accusers,  Vermersch, 
Humbert,  and  Villiaume  are  his  familiars.  Sarre  and 
Weser  do  his  dirty  work  along  with  that  miserable 
creature,  Pilotell." 

"  Pilotell,  the  caricaturist  ?  " 

"Yes.  You  know  him, — without  talent,  cowardly 
and  dissipated.  He  arrested  Monsieur  Polo,  editor 
of  the  '  Eclipse  '  yesterday,  and  Rigault  says  he  will 
have  him  shot.  As  far  as  I  can  make  out,  Monsieur 
Polo's  crime  consists  in  not  having  accepted  Pilotell's 
tenth  rate  caricatures  for  his  paper.  Pilotell  boasts 
that  he  found  three  thousand  francs  on  Monsieur 
Polo  which  he  kept  for  the  '  Commune.'  Bah  !  I  am 
getting  sick  of  this  Commune!  " 


IN  A    GARDEN.  1 95 


Landes  drew  him  into  a  seat  and  spoke  earnestly. 
"  Give  it  up  Archie,  resign  and  leave  the  city.  You 
can't  be  mixed  up  with  such  a  crowd  of  ruffians  as 
this!  Is  it  too  late  to  get  out?" 

"Yes,  old  chap,  I  should  be  shot.  I  am  going  out 
of  the  city  anyway,  where  I  hope  we  will  have  some 
fighting.  The  Versailles  people  are  threatening  the 
village  and  Fort  of  Issy,  and,  if  I  'm  not  mistaken, 
the  music  will  begin  there.  I  should  n't  want  to 
miss  the  fighting,  but  I  'm  sick  of  the  Commune  as  it 
is  here  in  Paris." 

He  walked  the  length  of  the  garden  once  or 
twice,  his  head  sunk  on  his  breast,  his  gloved  hands 
clasped  nervously  behind  him.  Philip  watched  him 
in  silence. 

"  How  is  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac?"  said  Wilton, 
abruptly,  coming  up  beside  the  easel  and  glancing  at 
the  sketch. 

"Well,"  replied  Philip,—  "!  must  try  to  find  a 
way  to  get  her  to  Chartres." 

"You  had  better  stay  here  quietly  for  a  while," 
said  Wilton.  "  Is  she  very  impatient  to  go?" 

"  No,  she  is  very  patient  and  reasonable,  but  of 
course  I  know  how  she  feels.  It 's  no  kind  of  a  posi 
tion  for  a  young  girl  to  be  in,  cooped  up  alone  with 
a  man— 

"  It  might  have  been  worse,"  said  Wilton,  gravely  ; 
"she  can  thank  her  lucky  stars  that  you  are  here. 
Is  that  a  sketch  of  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Philip,  glancing  critically  at  his  canvas  ; 
"she  was  good  enough  to  pose  for  me  on  the  edge 
of  the  fountain  there.  She  went  in  about  half  an 


196  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

hour  ago  to  do  some  sewing.  What  do  you  think  of 
the  sketch,  Archie?" 

"  Well,  as  an  officer  I  should  say  it  is  first  rate. 
Remember  I  have  lost  my  right  to  criticise  you  as  a 
brother  artist." 

"  Nonsense  ! — I  think  that  the  color  is  very  decent, 
but  it  does  n't  compose  as  well  as  it  might." 

"  It  will  when  you  have  worked  more  on  the 
figure.  Why  don't  you  put  that  cat  in  ?"  Landes 
turned.  Tcherka  sat  staring  at  them  from  behind  a 
lilac  bush. 

"  Perhaps  I  will,"  said  Landes,  smiling,  "  only  don't 
you  think  her  color  would  rather  knock  out  the 
scheme?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  you  were  always  a  better  col- 
orist  than  I  was.  I  don't  know  much  about  color 
except  in  uniforms.  How  do  you  like  mine?" 

"You  asked  me  that  before,"  laughed  Philip.  "  I 
like  it,  but  I  must  say  I  don't  care  for  the  dark 
breeches  with  that  orange-red  stripe.  The  red 
breeches  of  the  Line  are  much  handsomer  I  think. 
The  soldiers  of  the  Commune  are  gotten  up  rather 
regardless  though." 

"  Oh,"  laughed  Wilton,  "  you  should  see  the  Polish 
cavalry  and  the  Hussars  of  Death.  Well,  I  'm  going. 
Good-bye,  old  chap." 

He  held  out  his  hand  and  Landes  grasped  it. 
"  Good-bye,  Archie,  I  hope  you  will  come  out  of 
this  all  right.  Don't  be  rash.  Imprudence  is  n't 
bravery." 

"  I  might  say  the  same  to  you,  old  fellow,"  said 
Wilton  ;  "  good-bye,  and  if  you  should  see  Ynes " 


IN  A    GARDEN.  197 


"  I  '11  know  what  to  say,"  replied  Landes.  "  Take 
care  of  yourself." 

So  Archie  Wilton  of  New  York  City,  twenty-one 
years  of  age,  went  away  to  command  a  mob  of  fanat 
ics  as  dangerous  to  each  other  and  to  their  officers  as 
to  the  enemy ;  and  Landes  sat  down  to  resume  his 
sketch. 

As  yet  he  had  scarcely  covered  the  canvas,  but  the 
effect  was  charming.  On  the  edge  of  the  low,  circu 
lar  stone  basin  Jeanne  de  Brassac  was  seated,  one 
slender  hand  resting  on  the  gray  stone,  the  other 
dipping  idly  in  the  water.  The  background,  almost 
conventionalized,  was  formed  by  the  white  wall  of 
the  garden  flecked  with  shadows  from  the  budding 
lilac  bushes.  The  sketch  was  redolent  of  spring-time. 
Away  up  in  one  corner  a  strip  of  sky,  robin's-egg- 
blue,  peeped  between  the  almond-tree  branches,  the 
warm  spring  sunlight  fell,  dappling  and  spotting  the 
path  in  the  foreground. 

The  figure  of  Jeanne  de  Brassac,  beautifully  drawn 
but  not  yet  modelled,  was  the  incarnation  of  youth 
and  spring-time.  Her  bright  curly  hair  was  blown 
across  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes,  her  beautiful  violet 
eyes,  were  raised  with  a  half-veiled  smile  which  made 
Philip's  breath  come  in  catches  when  he  looked  at 
them. 

"  It  's  devilish  good,  by  Jove!  "  he  muttered  to 
himself ;  "  it  will  compose  all  right  if  I  light  up  the 
path  and  swing  it  about  a  bit.  But  we  won't  drag 
in  the  yellow  cat,"  he  added,  laughing  to  himself. 

Tcherka,  who  had  been  sharpening  her  delicate 
claws  on  the  almond  trees,  came  up  to  be  caressed, 


198  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


and  got  a  dab  of  crimson  on  the  end  of  her  tail  from 
Philip's  palette. 

"  What  a  nuisance  you  are,"  laughed  Landes, 
"keep  your  confounded  tail  out  of  my  paints." 

Tcherka  started  to  lie1:  the  color  off,  but  Philip 
seized  her  with  one  hand  and,  picking  up  a  rag,  dipped 
it  in  the  turpentine  and  attempted  to  remove  the 
crimson  lake.  To  his  horror  the  turpentine  spread 
the  color  half-way  up  the  cat's  tail,  dyeing  the  fur  a 
brilliant  crimson,  and  then,  the  turpentine  reaching 
the  skin,  the  cat  sprang  out  of  his  arms  with  an  in 
dignant  squall  and  flew  to  the  top  of  the  wall,  where 
she  made  enormous  eyes  at  him  and  switched  her 
gaudy  tail  in  fury. 

"  What  a  shame  !  Is  that  how  you  amuse  your 
self  when  I  am  away,  Monsieur  ?  "  said  a  clear,  ban 
tering  voice  behind  him,  and  Jeanne  de  Brassac 
stepped  to  his  side  and  pointed  tragically  at  Tcherka's 
brilliant  tail. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Landes,  rising  from  his 
easel,  "  but  she  insisted  on  assuming  the  colors  of 
the  Commune.  It  will  wear  off  in  time.  I  thought 
you  were  going  to  sew  ?  ' 

"  I  have  been  sewing,  and  I  am  tired  of  it.  I  came 
to  see  what  mischief  you  were  engaged  in." 

"  You  are  too  late — the  cat  is  a  hopeless  rebel. 
Heaven  save  her  from  Monsieur  Thiers  !  " 

Jeanne  looked  up  at  Tcherka  with  a  sigh.  "  My 
poor  little  Tcherka,  my  poor  abused  little  pussy," 
she  said,  "  come  down  this  minute  and  see  your 
mistress !  " 

But  Tcherka  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  all  persuasion 


IN  A    GARDEN.  199 


and  presently  marched  away  to  a  sunny  angle  on  the 
broad  wall  where  she  could  survey  the  garden  and 
keep  an  eye  on  the  blackbird. 

Jeanne  turned  and  looked  at  the  sketch  on  the 
easel. 

"  Do  you  approve  ?  "  asked  Philip. 

"  Very  much,"  she  replied  warmly. 

"  Then  perhaps  you  will  give  me  another  sit 
ting?  " 

"  When,  now  ?  " 

"If  you  will." 

She  went  over  to  the  fountain  and  sat  down  on 
the  edge,  looking  at  him  over  her  shoulder  with  a 
faint  smile.  "As  many  as  you  wish,  Monsieur,"  she 
said. 

"  Then  I  may  begin  other  pictures  of  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  care  to." 

"  Indeed  I  do  ! "  he  cried  enthusiastically. 

"  Is  this  the  right  position  ?  " 

"  Yes, — the  head  was  a  little  more  this  way, — now 
— there — that  is  just  right.  Are  you  comfortable?" 

"  Perfectly." 

Then  he  began  to  paint,  chatting  with  her  and 
leaning  back  occasionally  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the 
ensemble. 

She  watched  him  curiously  when  he  stopped  to 
reset  his  palette,  and  followed  with  her  eyes  each 
curling  string  of  color  as  it  coiled  up  in  its  place  on 
the  porcelain.  First  came  a  big  blot  of  silver  white, 
then  in  the  order  of  the  rainbow,  red,  orange,  yellow, 
green,  blue,  indigo,  and  violet,  in  tints  and  shades  of 
wonderful  beauty. 


2OO  THE    RED  REPUBLIC. 


He  placed  the  colors  on  the  canvas  with  a  single, 
quick,  almost  nervous  touch,  and  she  noticed  that 
he  did  very  little  mixing  on  his  palette,  but  painted 
in  almost  pure  color,  producing  the  tone  he  wanted 
by  laying  over  the  fresh  color  other  colors  as  pure 
and  unmixed. 

He  chatted  along  all  the  time,  and,  noticing  that 
she  was  interested  in  the  mechanical  part  of  the 
process,  explained  to  her  how  it  was  that  he  had 
chosen  to  paint  in  a  manner  which  would  have 
brought  tears  of  despair  to  an  Academician's  eyes. 

"  It  's  the  sunlight  that  I  am  so  in  love  with,  the 
sunlight  playing  on  soft  human  flesh.  You  can't 
get  that  by  the  dark  muddy  colors  of  the  studio  ; 
you  need  all  the  hues  and  colors  of  the  rainbow  to 
form  a  light  which  is  white  and  brilliant  enough.  In 
the  open  air  shadows  are  not  black, — they  are  trans 
parent  and  gray,  tinged  with  the  colors  of  the  sky 
and  the  surrounding  objects.  In  the  studio  every 
thing  is  dull  and  subdued  and  pitched  in  a  calm, 
quiet  key.  In  the  open  air,  especially  on  a  sunny 
day,  the  key  of  nature  is  pitched  very  high,  and,  with 
all  the  resources  of  the  most  brilliant  palettes,  we 
can  only  parody  the  Bmpid  light  of  the  sky  and  the 
depth  of  the  sunshine.  I  do  not  paint  as  I  learned 
to  paint  in  the  schools,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  and  many 
people  think  I  am  crazy  on  color." 

"  I  do  not,"  replied  Jeanne  de  Brassac,  with  a 
quick,  sympathetic  smile  ;  "  I  think  I  understand 
your  work  perfectly.  To  me  your  color  is  wonder 
fully  true  and  beautiful." 

He  glanced  up  delighted  and  somewhat  astonished. 


IN  A    GARDEN.  2OI 


"Tell  me  more  about  it,"  she  said. 

The  light  was  still  good  but  waning  when  Toodles 
fell  into  the  fountain.  He  had  been  having  one  of 
his  daily  interviews  with  the  goldfish.  He  tried  to 
smell  them  and  got  water  up  his  nose.  They  looked 
at  him  fixedly,  and  slowly  sank  to  the  bottom.  He 
found  their  manner  of  doing  this  even  more  insulting 
than  usual,  and,  barking  wildly,  stumbled  over  the 
edge  and  in.  After  he  had  been  dragged  out  by 
Philip  and  gently  slapped  by  his  mistress,  he  tried 
to  shake  himself  over  the  painter  and  his  canvas. 
Foiled  at  that  he  had  joyously  rolled  himself  on  the 
gravel-walk,  grinding  the  dirt  and  sticks  into  his 
coat,  and  had  then  been  picked  up  by  the  neck  and 
soused  again  in  the  fountain. 

"  Come,"  said  Philip,  taking  Toodles  in  one  hand 
and  his  easel  in  the  other,  "  the  sun  is  too  low  for 
any  more  work.  Shall  we  go  in  ?  " 

Laughing  at  the  drenched  puppy  dangling  limp 
from  Philip's  hand,  they  ran  up  the  steps  into  the 
studio. 

"  You  are  a  very  bad  dog,  and  will  probably  die 
of  cold,"  said  Jeanne,  kissing  him  and  planting  him 
before  the  fire,  where  he  at  once  flopped  over  and 
rolled  his  eyes. 

Tcherka  marched  in  presently  and  sat  with  her 
illuminated  tail  tucked  under  her  flank.  Joseph 
came  and  lighted  the  lamp,  went  out  again,  and,  by 
the  time  he  returned  with  the  dinner,  the  early 
March  twilight  had  deepened  to  a  still  black  starless 
night. 

"  Is  there  anything  more   I   can  do  for  Mademoi- 


2O2  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


selle?"  asked  Joseph,  when  the  table  was  cleared 
and  he  stood  at  the  door  waiting  to  say  good-night. 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,  Joseph,"  she  replied. 

"  Monsieur  Philip?  " 

"  No  ;  is  there  any  news  ?  " 

"  No,  Monsieur.  I  renewed  my  pass  for  the  bar 
ricade." 

"  Very  well— that  is  all." 

"  Alors,  bon  soir,  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac,  bon 
soir,  Monsieur  Philip,  et  bien  le  bon  soir,"  smiled 
Joseph,  shuffling  amiably  out  of  the  door. 

"  Good-night,  Joseph,"  they  called  out  together. 

When  Joseph's  steps  had  died  away  down  the 
alley  the  quiet  seemed  even  more  perfect  than 
usual ;  neither  felt  like  speaking.  Presently  Jeanne 
rose  and  walked  to  the  great  window  overlooking 
the  garden,  pressing  her  face  against  the  pane. 
Philip  raised  his  head  from  his  book  and  watched 
her.  The  fire  burned  dimly  and  he  stooped  to  lift 
a  stick  across  the  andirons.  A  shower  of  crackling 
sparks  whirled  up  the  chimney,  and  presently  the 
new  log  caught  fire  and  blazed  up  in  a  sheet  of  yel 
low  flame,  which  set  the  shadows  trembling  on  wall 
and  ceiling.  Philip  lay  back  in  his  chair,  closed  his 
book,  and  stared  at  the  snapping  sparks.  He  was 
thinking  of  Jeanne.  What  a  fate  had  been  hers! 
What  had  fate  in  store  for  her?  Would  he  ever 
have  a  chance  to  cross  the  river  and  look  for  her 
diamonds  in  their  naive  hiding-place  ?  What  a  place 
to  put  them  ! — like  a  child  playing  Hide  the  Hand 
kerchief !  She  was  a  child — almost.  If  the  pistol 
had  been  examined  and  the  contents  removed,  as 


IN  A    GARDEN.  203 


was  almost  certain,  then  Jeanne  de  Brassac  was  nearly 
penniless.  She  would  have  to  sell  her  home  in  Char- 
tres  and  live  somewhere  very  modestly.  Those  old 
chateaux  brought  little  money  when  sold  in  1871. 
Few  people  cared  to  buy  or  could  afford  to  buy  so 
soon  after  the  war. 

He  thought  of  his  own  snug  little  income,  and 
flushed  to  realize  how  useless  it  must  be  to  her.  He 
remembered  bitterly  the  money  he  had  wasted, 
money  which  saved  would  have  bought  the  Chateau 
de  Brassac  at  a  fair  price.  And  then  !  He  knew  that 
she  could  not  have  accepted  it  from  him  in  any  case. 
He  looked  wistfully  at  her,  standing  silent  with  her 
face  against  the  black  window.  How  slim  and  young 
she  seemed,  how  childlike  her  small  head  and  the 
soft  curve  of  her  cheek. 

Her  hands,  loosely  clasped  behind  her,  gleamed 
white  as  marble  in  the  dusk  of  the  extension.  He 
thought  of  the  slender  child's  hand  as  it  lay  on  her 
mother's  shoulder  that  Christmas  Eve  so  long  ago. 
Then  he  thought  of  Victor,  with  his  lovable  nature 
and  splendid  talents,  his  fair  hair  and  dark  eyes,  his 
pride  and  triumph  as  he  cried,  "  Philip,  I  have  won 
the  Prix  de  Rome  !  " 

He  turned  to  the  fire  with  an  impatient  movement. 
"It  's  only  useless  fools  like  me  that  live  forever!" 
he  said  to  himself.  A  lonely,  desolate  feeling  had 
been  slowly  taking  possession  of  him  ;  blue  devils 
settled  down  in  swarms,  and  he  did  not  resist. 

"  What  have  I  done  that  is  any  good  ?  "  he  mused. 
"  How  do  I  know  that  I  have  any  talent  ?  I  can 
paint — but  my  ideas  of  color  may  be  all  wrong. 


204  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


How  do  I  know  that  I  'm  not  making  a  fool  of 
myself  with  my  theory  of  light  impinging  on  shadow 
and  my  vibrating  color  fad  ?  And  what  sort  of  a 
man  am  I?  I  have  no  religion,  no  faith,  no  morals 
— if  I  live  decently,  it  's  fastidiousness,  not  principle. 
And  who  is  there  in  the  world  to  care  if  I  die  ?  If  I 
had  a  family — but  I  have  n't.  Ellice  would  care. 
I  'd  give  all  I  'm  worth  to  know  what  has  become  of 
Ellice?  Yes,  he  'd  care.  But  he  'd  be  playing  bil 
liards  the  next  week.  Faustine  would  care — I  don't 
want  to  think  of  Faustine.  Archie  Wilton  would  be 
sorry,— ten  minutes,  and  Alain  de  Carette  would 
remember  me  all  his  life — if  he  is  n't  lying  some 
where  with  a  sabre  bayonet  in  him.  What  am  I 
snivelling  and  pitying  myself  about  anyway?  I  've 
got  all  I  deserve."  He  shook  himself  and  stood  up 
with  decision. 

"  Jeanne,"  he  called,  "  is  n't  it  a  bit  cold  over  there 
in  the  dark?"  She  turned  toward  him,  her  face 
flushed,  her  eyes  like  violet  stars.  Then  she  came 
and  sat  down  in  the  arm-chair  before  the  blaze. 

"  Don't  be  unhappy,  Jeanne,"  he  said  almost 
timidly. 

"  I,  unhappy  ?  "  she  asked  ;  "  why,  I  have  been 
thinking  how  happy  I  am.  I  was  thinking  that  I 
love  the  studio,  Philip." 

He  was  so  completely  taken  by  surprise  that  he 
sat  gazing  at  her  until  she  laughed  out.  It  was  a 
sweet,  innocent,  childlike  laugh,  that  chased  all  the 
gloom  from  his  heart.  His  eyes  cleared. 

"  And  you  were  not  standing  alone  over  there 
feeling  terribly  downcast  ?  " 


IN  A    GARDEN. 

"  I  was  trying  to  realize  that  it  is  less  than  a  fort 
night  since  I  came  here,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  known  it 
all  my  life.  Oh,  do  you  ask  me  if  I  am  unhappy 
here  ?  I  was  taken  by  force  to  a  dreadful  place, 
insulted,  threatened  by  brutal  men,  in  expectation 
of  death  ; — then  you  come  and  bring  me  here.  It  was 
like  heaven  when  I  first  came,  after  those  terrible 
days, — now  it  is  like  home." 

Landes  could  not  answer.  He  had  never  imagined 
anything  so  delightful  as  this. 

"There  was  one  thing,"  she  went  on,  "that  I 
thought  about  which  was  less  pleasant." 

"And  that?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"  That  was  the  certainty  that  you  must  be  bored, 
shut  up  so  long  here  with  no  one  to  talk  to  but  a 
girl." 

"  I  have  never  been  so  happy  in  my  life." 

"  Very  well — I  believe  you  for  the  present.  But 
you  will  be  bored  very  soon  if  you  are  not  amused. 
I  shall  play  to  you,  Monsieur,"  she  announced,  rising 
and  going  to  the  piano. 

After  all  she  sat  so  long  looking  at  the  keys  with 
out  touching  them  that  Philip  was  on  the  point  of 
speaking  when  she  began  to  prelude,  and  then,  with 
a  glance  over  her  shoulder,  she  played  the  song  of 
the  blackbird.  Playing  by  ear  seemed  a  miracle  to 
Landes,  and  he  was  very  much  astonished  at  what 
was  really  a  very  simple  performance. 

'  Our  bird,"  she  said,  with  a  little  laugh.     "  What 
else  shall  I  play,  Philip?  " 

"  Play  as  you  have  been  playing,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice. 


2C»6  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Her  eyes  questioned  his  an  instant.  "  I  under 
stand,"  she  murmured. 

Under  her  touch  the  chords  began  to  swell  and 
sway  like  the  waves  of  a  tossing  ocean.  He  heard 
the  surf  curling  among  the  rocks,  he  heard  the  wind 
blowing  over  leagues  of  moorland,  and  then,  as  the 
wind  died  away,  some  strange  sea-bird  uttered  a  note, 
wild  and  monotonous. 

He  heard  rain  falling  on  a  vast  grassy  plain,  drip 
ping  ceaselessly  into  the  soft  earth,  or  splashing  on 
the  bosom  of  shallow  lakes.  He  heard  a  brook, 
hidden  at  first  in  subterranean  depths,  tinkling 
among  rocks,  welling  up  from  the  earth  through 
bubbling  spring  pools,  chattering  away  over  pebbly 
reaches  toward  an  ocean  whose  dull  roar  came  from 
a  distance. 

Then  a  lark  carolled  faintly  among  the  parting 
clouds,  the  sun  flashed  out  in  splendor,  and  the 
grasses  were  humming  with  insect  life.  Far  afield 
crickets  were  chirping,  all  the  small  creatures  of  the 
meadows  droned  a  rhythmic  chorus  until  the  wind 
died  away  and  the  stillness  of  the  midday  heat  was 
only  broken  by  the  prattle  of  the  brook. 

It  was  the  overture  to  "  Sylvia  Elven,"  the  new 
opera. 

Suddenly  it  seemed  as  though  a  forest  full  of  birds 
were  singing,  and  then,  rising  clear  and  sweet  above 
the  trills  of  the  feathered  choir,  came  the  first  won 
derful  notes  of  Sylvia's  aria. 

Jeanne  was  singing  the  "  Hawthorn  Song." 

"  Flower  of  the  heath, 
Sway  and  bend  ;  I  weave  my  wreath, 


IN  A    GARDEN.  2O/ 


Blossom  of  thyme, 
Life  is  love  ;   I  wreathe  my  rhyme. 

Flower  of  the  thorn, 
Life  is  love  and  love  is  born. 

Blossom  of  moss, 
Sorrow  is  dead.     I  drop  my  cross. 

Flower  of  heather, 
Death  and  I  have  talked  together. 

Blossom  of  weed, 
Death  has  fled  on  his  snow-white  steed. 

Flower  of  the  May, 
Love  and  I  have  said  him  nay. 

Blossom  of  rue, 
Shadow  of  fear  no  more  I  knew. 

Flower  of  heath, 
Sway  and  bend,  I  weave  my  wreath." 

Then  her  mood  changed.  He  heard  the  soft  clash 
of  Moorish  cymbals,  the  swaying  cadence  of  young 
voices,  the  hollow  rumble  of  the  Nautch  drum.  A 
reed  pipe  took  up  the  melody,  which  soared  away 
among  palms,  by  rivers  hurrying  through  whispering 
rushes.  Imperceptibly  the  notes  of  the  pipes  grew 
softer,  and  now  it  was  a  Breton  herdsman  blowing  a 
quaint  mimicry  of  a  chceur  de  chasse.  Then  the 
hunting  horns  rang  out,  the  branches  snapped  and 
cracked  under  the  heavy  rush  of  a  boar,  and,  as  the 
chase  passed,  pack  in  full  cry  and  horns  clanging  the 
"game  afoot,"  the  chimes  from  a  hidden  chapel 
came  quavering  on  the  October  wind,  lingering, 
ringing  faintly  long  after  silence  had  fallen  in  the 
forest. 

She  came  quietly  from  the  piano  and  he  raised 
his  head.  For  a  while  they  looked  at  each  other; 


208  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


then  Tcherka  arched  her  back  and  yawned,  and  the 
puppy  gurgled  and  thumped  the  floor  with  his  tail. 

"  It 's  a  sleepy  time,"  said  Jeanne,  with  a  timid 
smile. 

He  rose  and  she  held  out  her  fair  hand.  Silently, 
bending  low  before  her,  he  touched  her  ringers  with 
his  lips. 

And  as  they  stood,  smiling,  lingering,  strangely 
moved,  from  the  distant  street  came  the  booming  of 
drums  and  the  trampling  of  a  multitude. 

Then  the  bugles  pealed  the  "  alert,"  the  drums 
rolled  like  distant  thunder,  and  a  thousand  deep 
voices  rose  in  one  long  wavering  cheer,  "  Vive  la 
Commune !  " 

It  was  the  new  battalion  replacing  the  old  at  the 
barricades  in  the  rue  Notre  Dame. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  COMMUNE  MOVES. 

ON  the  morning  of  the  twenty-second  of  March, 
the  day  fixed  for  the   elections  in  Paris,  a 
large  square  placard   printed   in  bold   type 
appeared   on  every  wall  in  the  city.     This  was  its 
tenor. 


TO  THE  ELECTORS  OF  PARIS. 

WHEREAS  :  the  convocation  of  the  electors  is  an  act 
of  National  sovereignty. 

WHEREAS  :  the  exercise  of  that  sovereignty  belongs  only 
to  the  powers  emanating  from  universal  suffrage. 

IT  FOLLOWS  :  that  the  Committee  now  installed  in  the 
Hotel  de  Ville  has  neither  right  nor  power  for  such  con 
vocation. 

THEREFORE,  the  representatives  of  the  undersigned 
journals  consider  the  convocation  placarded  for  the  22d  of 
March  null  and  void,  and  counsel  their  readers  to  pay  it 
no  atttention. 

Present  and  approving : 

Journal  des  Debats.  Constitutionnel. 

Elector  Libre.  Petite  Presse. 

Verite.  Figaro. 

Gaulois.  Paris-Journal. 

Petit  National.  Petit  Moniteur. 

Siecle.  Presse. 

Temps.  Soir. 

France.  Liberte. 

Pays.  National. 

Univers.  Cloche. 

Patrie.  Franjais. 

Bien  Public.  Union. 

Opinion  Nationale.  Journal  des  Villes  et 

Journal  de  Paris.  Compagnes. 

France  Nouvelle.  Moniteur  Universel. 

Monde.  Gazette  de  France. 


20Q 


210  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Around  each  placard  excited  groups  gathered,  occa 
sionally  broken  up  and  dispersed  by  platoons  of  the 
National  Guard,  but  only  to  collect  again  and  dis 
cuss  the  placard  in  words  and  gestures  which  every 
moment  grew  more  violent.  When,  at  times,  the 
placards  were  torn  down  and  the  crowd  retreated 
from  the  glittering  bayonets,  before  the  tumult  fairly 
subsided,  other  placards  would  mysteriously  appear 
in  the  place  of  those  destroyed. 

This  splendid  protest  of  the  Paris  press  fell  like  a 
bombshell  among  the  members  of  the  Central  Com 
mittee  and  their  adherents  who  occupied  the  Hotel 
de  Ville.  It  was  the  first  time  in  twenty  years  that 
the  press  of  Paris,  emasculated  and  corrupted  under 
the  Empire,  had  raised  its  united  voice  in  support  of 
a  principle.  The  effect  of  the  protest  was  instant 
and  decisive.  The  Commune  was  profoundly  stirred, 
and  the  "  party  of  order,"  which  had  kept  very  quiet 
since  its  timid  leader  had  fled  to  Versailles,  now  saw 
that  it  had  in  the  city  an  ally  and  a  bulwark — the 
loyal  press.  Groups  formed  in  the  streets,  meetings 
were  held  in  the  open  air,  loyal  battalions  offered 
their  services,  and  everywhere  in  the  centre  of  Paris 
the  people  of  the  best  quarters  united  their  voices 
with  the  dignified  protest  of  the  press. 

Most  of  the  mairies  were  occupied. by  moderate 
republicans,  and  these  gentlemen  made  it  known 
that  they  would  not  abdicate  in  the  presence  of  the 
rebellion,  neither  would  they  lend  their  aid  to  nor 
countenance  any  election  fixed  for  the  22d  of  March. 
Three  wards  of  the  city  even  had  the  courage  to 
hoist  the  tricolor ;  they  were  the  wards  of  Saint 


THE   COMMUNE  MOVES.  211 


Germain  1'Auxerrois,  rue  de  la  Banque,  and  the  rue 
Druot.  These  three  quarters  are  situated  in  the  very 
heart  of  all  that  is  elegant  and  learned  and  fashion 
able  in  Paris,  and  their  action  troubled  the  insurgents 
of  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

These  events  were  known  in  Versailles  almost  as 
soon  as  in  Paris,  for  communication  between  the 
Capitol  and  the  city  in  which  the  National  Assembly 
was  sitting  had  not  been  entirely  cut  off.  Fugitives 
from  Paris  brought  the  news  of  the  sudden  change 
in  the  political  situation.  The  Assembly,  during  its 
first  sitting,  remembering  perhaps  the  number  of 
faults  it  had  committed  in  the  past,  voted  without 
hesitation  to  give  Paris  the  right  to  elect  a  municipal 
government  for  herself.  At  one  time  even,  urged  by 
several  notabilities  of  the  Left,  such  as  Victor  Schoel- 
cher  and  Louis  Blanc,  they  almost  believed  that  they 
could  arrive  at  an  understanding  with  the  Hotel  de 
Ville.  Negotiations  were  opened  and  envoys  sent 
from  Versailles.  MM.  Tirard,  Cle'men^eau,  and  others, 
mayors  and  deputies  at  the  same  time,  were  active 
in  trying  to  effect  a  reconciliation,  but  from  the  very 
first  it  was  plain  that  the  Commune  was  not  in  earn 
est.  The  insurgents  would  listen  to  nothing  reason 
able,  and  they  refused  on  any  terms  to  quit  their 
places.  Thiers  was  very  patient  with  them,  but  it 
was  the  patience  of  an  old  fox  with  a  farmer  who  has 
him  fast  by  the  leg.  Give  the  fox  time  and  he  can 
t^ist  around  and  bite.  Thiers  wanted  time.  To 
crush  the  insurrection,  as  it  now  appeared  in  all  its 
appalling  proportions,  he  needed  50,000  troops.  On 
the  2oth  of  March  he  had  only  a  third  of  that  num- 


212  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


her,  but  every  day  thousands  of  troops  were  arriving 
from  the  325,000  prisoners  of  the  Franco-Prussian 
war,  and,  although  they  were  worn  out  from  long 
suffering  and  captivity,  badly  clothed,  unarmed,  and 
unclassed,  it  was  plain  that  with  time  they  could  be 
welded  into  a  powerful  and  compact  army.  So 
Monsieur  Thiers  was  very  patient. 

On  the  other  hand  the  "  party  of  order  "  in  Paris 
lost  what  little  faith  it  had  retained  in  Adolphe 
Thiers,  and  declared  that  its  patience  was  at  an  end. 
Day  by  day  the  Communistic  revolt,  which  at  first 
pretended  to  justify  itself  in  the  cry  of  "  Municipal 
Liberty,"  was  taking  a  sinister  character,  anything 
but  French.  Every  day  the  alarmed  inhabitants  of 
Paris  saw  new  actors  enter  the  scene.  The  Hotel 
de  Ville  had  become  a  revolutionary  headquarters. 
Strange,  suspicious  creatures  haunted  it :  Polish 
dragoons  in  full  uniform,  with  tasselled  boots  and  flap 
ping  cloaks ;  Garibaldians  in  red  shirts,  plumed  hats, 
and  enormous  spurs;  "Hussars  of  Death"  in  the 
fantastic  panoply  which  has  made  their  hideous 
trapping  an  omen  of  violence  and  terror.  With 
crepe  on  their  arms,  revolvers  in  their  belts,  and  long 
sabres  dangling,  these  strange  creatures  rode  like 
nightmares  through  the  dimly  lighted  streets,  or 
stalked  silently,  two  by  two,  enveloped  in  their  vast 
mantles.  At  night  the  cafes  were  crowded  with 
motley  throngs  who  gambled  and  cursed  and  drank 
with  women  of  the  most  abandoned  and  dangerous 
type.  Gold  was  poured  out  like  water,  orgies 
awakened  the  sober  inhabitants  whose  expostula 
tions  were  received  with  jeers  and  curses  and  an 


THE   COMMUNE  MOVES.  21$ 


occasional  playful  bullet.  The  Belleville  battalions 
marched  and  counter-marched  all  day,  blowing  their 
eternal  bugles  and  drumming  until  the  whole  city 
echoed  from  morning  until  night  with  one  terrific 
ear-splitting  racket. 

A  terror  which  was  not  without  reason  seized 
upon  the  good  people  of  Paris. 

"  Are  these  bandits  paid  to  annoy  us  in  this 
way?  "  they  demanded  of  one  another.  The  answer 
came  in  a  startling  manner.  The  Central  Committee, 
revolvers  levelled,  "  borrowed  "  500,000  francs  from 
the  Bank  of  France.  Then  anger  and  fright  wrung 
a  cry  of  protest  from  the  decent  element  in  the  city. 
A  great  meeting  of  the  peaceful  citizens  of  Paris 
was  called  for  the  22d  of  March  in  front  of  the 
New  Opera.  It  was  to  be  a  silent  protest,  but  an 
imposing  one.  The  people  were  cautioned  to  bring 
no  arms  and  to  utter  no  hostile  cry.  They  were  to 
march  quietly  through  the  streets,  their  attitude  was 
to  be  dignified  and  non-provocative,  and  they  hoped 
to  show  the  inhabitants  and  the  insurgent  National 
Guard  that  the  majority  of  the  bourgeoisie  were  not 
in  favor  of  the  violence  which  was  beginning  to  suc 
ceed  the  brief  interval  of  quiet. 

All  the  morning  these  inoffensive  people  had  been 
gathering  before  the  Opera,  discussing  the  protest 
of  the  press  and  the  negotiations  with  Thiers.  By 
noon  10,000  people  had  gathered  and  still  more 
were  flocking  in,  eager  to  take  part  in  the  pacific 
demonstration  which  they  hoped  the  Commune 
would  not  dare  disregard.  From  the  Place  de 
rOpe"ra  they  could  see,  through  the  rue  de  la  Paix, 


214  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


the  formidable  barricade  which  defended  the  Place 
Vendome. 

The  Place  Vend6me  had  been  transformed  into 
a  fortress.  Cannon  and  mitrailleuses  guarded  the 
barricade  across  the  rue  de  la  Paix,  and  the  whole 
square  swarmed  with  the  troops  of  the  Commune. 
Du  Bisson,  that  loud-mouthed  renegade,  commanded 
the  western  angle  of  the  square  ;  Lullier,  the  southern; 
and  the  commandant-in-chief,  Bergeret,  occupied  the 
centre  with  his  bullion-covered  staff.  Bergeret, 
clothed  in  a  costume  which  would  have  driven  an 
opera  tenor  crazy  with  jealousy,  sat  on  a  keg  in  the 
middle  of  the  square  and  eyed  the  throng  in  front 
of  the  Opera  with  a  self-satisfied  smile. 

"  If  they  come  this  way,"  he  said  to  Du  Bisson, 
"  I  '11  mow  'em  down — only  wait  and  see  me !  " 

Du  Bisson  stared  at  the  grotesque  and  ferocious 
imitation  of  Santerre  and  Rossignol. 

"  You  'd  better  wait  until  they  do  something  to 
merit  it,"  he  answered  curtly  ;  "  study  your  orders 
more  carefully,  my  friend." 

"  I  want  no  advice,"  observed  Bergeret,  with 
superb  indifference. 

"//  's  better  than  rotten  eggs"  said  Du  Bisson, 
brusquely,  and  turned  on  his  heel. 

This  allusion  to  an  episode  in  "  General "  Ber- 
geret's  career,  made  that  opera-bouffe  warrior  turn 
livid,  for  not  only  had  he  once  been  a  painter  of 
mediocrity,  but  at  one  time  he  had  been  hissed  off 
the  stage  of  a  fourth-rate  theatre.  Casting  furious 
glances  around  him  at  his  staff  to  see  if  anybody  was 
laughing,  he  got  up  and  marched  over  to  a  group  of 


THE   COMMUNE  MOVES.  21$ 


officers  who  were  sitting  on  the  barricade  facing  the 
rue  de  la  Paix. 

"Where  is  Colonel  Tribert?"  he  demanded. 

Tribert  rose  and  saluted.  His  face  was  battered 
out  of  recognition,  but  his  little  eyes  burned  with  a 
red  light  above  the  mass  of  plaster  and  bandages, 
and  he  held  himself  straight  as  a  ramrod. 

"  Do  you  see  those  fools  gathering  there  in  front 
of  the  Opera?"  demanded  Bergeret,  pompously. 

"  I  see,"  mumbled  Tribert. 

"  You  should  say,"  corrected  Bergeret,  frowning, 
"  yes,  General  Bergeret." 

"  Pardon.     Yes,  General  Bergeret." 

"  Have  you  a  glass?" 

"  Here  is  one,  General,"  said  Sarre. 

Bergeret  took  the  glass  and,  steadying  it  across  the 
top  of  the  barricade,  gazed  eagerly  through  the  rue 
de  la  Paix  to  the  Place  de  I'Ope'ra. 

"  They  have  no  banners,"  he  said,  without  remov 
ing  his  glass  ;  "  they  carry  no  arms  either.  It 's  all 
the  same.  If  they  come  this  way,  Colonel  Tribert, 
we  will  give  them  a  tune  to  dance  to." 

Sarre  grinned  approval.  Bergeret  handed  the 
glass  to  Tribert,  and,  swelling  like  a  turkey-cock, 
turned  slowly  once  or  twice  as  if  he  were  on  a  pivot, 
and  glanced  up  at  the  windows  of  the  houses  which 
faced  the  square  on  the  side  of  the  Hotel  Continen 
tal.  There  were  no  ladies  to  admire  him,  and  he 
petulantly  ordered  that  all  the  windows  facing  the 
square  should  remain  shut.  As  he  spoke,  a  bay 
window  opposite  was  raised  and  two  gentlemen 
stepped  into  the  balcony,  conversing. 


2l6  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


"  Shut  that  window  !  "  shouted  Bergeret. 

One  of  the  gentlemen,  a  short  ruddy  little  fellow 
with  very  bright  eyes,  looked  at  him  calmly  for  a 
moment,  then  quietly  resumed  the  conversation  with 
his  companion. 

"  Do  you  hear  me  !  "  bellowed  Bergeret,  furious 
and  conscious  of  the  attention  of  his  entire  staff, 
"  shut  that  window  and  go  in  !  " 

The  short  ruddy-faced  gentleman  quietly  lighted 
a  cigar,  leaned  over  the  balcony,  and  observed 
General  Bergeret  with  an  amused  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"  Burnside,"  he  said  in  English  to  his  companion, 
"who  is  that  jumping-jack  over  there  ?  " 

Du  Bisson,  seeing  something  was  wrong,  came  up 
hurriedly.  "  General,"  he  said,  "  be  careful  what 
you  do !  That  man  is  General  Sheridan  of  the 
United  States  Army  and  his  companion  is  General 
Burnside !  " 

Bergeret  bit  his  lip  and  turned  on  his  heel.  Tri- 
bert's  red  eyes  rested  a  moment  on  the  two  Ameri 
cans  who  sat  smoking  and  chatting  on  the  balcony. 
Then,  with  an  ominous  frown,  he  motioned  Sarre 
to  his  side  and  began  a  whispered  conversation  in 
which  Philip  Landes'  name  had  the  honor  of  being 
eulogized  in  the  choicest  of  Belleville  French.  Be 
fore  he  had  finished  his  consultation  a  bugle  call 
from  the  centre  of  the  square  brought  every  officer  to 
his  feet.  Then  the  drums  rattled  the  "  alarm  "  and 
the  troops  fell  in  and  "  General  "  Bergeret,  swelling 
with  importance,  followed  by  his  grotesque  staff, 
marched  toward  the  eastern  section  of  the  barricade. 

"  What 's  up  now  ?  "  grumbled  Tribert ;  "  oh,  here 


THE    COMMUNE   MOVES.  21 J 


they  come,  eh  ?  We  '11  give  them  something  to  stir 
them." 

Sarre  followed  his  superior's  eyes  and  saw  that 
the  crowd  which  had  been  gathered  in  front  of  the 
Opera  was  in  motion,  and  now,  headed  by  a  Line 
soldier  without  arms  who  bore  the  tri-color  flag,  was 
entering  the  rue  de  la  Paix  and  making  straight  for 
the  Place  Vendome. 

At  an  order  from  Bergeret  the  troops  formed  a 
square,  officers  in  the  centre,  cannon  at  the  angles. 
At  another  order,  rifles  were  loaded  and  bayonets 
fixed,  but,  knowing  their  mission  to  be  peaceful,  the 
procession  of  citizens  continued  to  advance,  urging 
each  other  to  remember  and  give  no  provocation. 
"  Vive  la  France !  Vive  1'order !  Vive  la  Garde 
National !  "  were  all  the  cries  which  they  permitted 
themselves.  On  the  way,  thinking  that  possibly  the 
sight  of  the  blue  ribbons  which  many  wore  might  be 
taken  as  a  pretext  for  violence,  orders  were  given  to 
remove  them.  On  they  came,  gravely,  quietly, 
until  the  foremost  rank  reached  the  barricade.  Then 
they  requested  the  National  Guard  to  let  them  pass, 
as  their  mission  was  harmless  and  peaceful.  Already 
six  or  seven  Federals  had  drawn  back  and  opened 
their  ranks  with  friendly  gestures,  when  suddenly 
the  drums  rolled,  and  a  strident  voice  was  heard, 
loud,  frenzied,  dominating  the  crash  of  the  drums, 
uttering  terrible  menaces.  It  was  Bergeret,  aping 
the  custom  of  the  three  legal  summonses  to  disperse. 

The  citizens  stared  at  each  other  in  amazement. 

"Ready!  Aim!  Fire  !"  shrieked  this  ape  with  a 
tiger's  heart.  An  explosion  shook  the  barricade, 


2l8  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


and  when  the  smoke  rose,  the  rue  de  la  Paix  was  a 
ghastly  shambles.  With  terror-stricken  cries  the 
crowd  turned  and  fled,  trampling  over  the  dead  and 
wounded,  searching  vainly  for  a  place  of  safety.  A 
white-haired  old  man  fell  with  a  ball  between  his 
eyes  ;  a  young  woman  lay  groaning  on  the  sidewalk, 
her  left  arm  crushed  by  a  bullet.  Twenty  corpses 
lay  in  the  rue  de  la  Paix,  and  sixty  people  bleeding 
from  rifle  bullets  dragged  themselves  toward  a  place 
of  safety.  Twelve  corpses  lay  in  one  heap  on  the 
corner  of  the  rue-Neuve-Saint-Agustin.  A  doctor 
wearing  the  brassard  of  the  ambulances  presented 
himself  at  the  barricade  to  help  the  wounded,  but 
Bergeret  cursed  him. 

"  F nous  le  camp !  On  n'  a  pas  besoin  de 

vous  !  "  shouted  the  Colonel  of  the  8oth  Battalion. 

"  Shoot  him  !  "  yelled  Tribert ;  but  Bergeret  was 
thinking  of  other  things,  and  the  doctor  escaped  by 
a  miracle. 

Sarre  sat  on  the  top  of  the  barricade  laughing  and 
mimicking  the  efforts  of  a  wounded  man  to  drag 
himself  across  the  pavement  to  a  doorway. 

"  He  walks  like  a  crab  !  "  he  chuckled,  holding  his 
sides  with  laughter.  Tribert  picked  up  a  rifle  and 
blew  a  hole  through  the  wounded  man's  head, 
which  annoyed  Sarre,  who  claimed  it  spoiled  the 
sport. 

When  the  news  of  the  butchery  reached  the 
H6tel  de  Ville,  the  extremists  in  the  Central  Com 
mittee  applauded  frantically  and  shouted  their  appro 
val.  Some  even  said  they  regretted  that  Bergeret 
had  not  been  able  to  "  slaughter  the  reaction  with 


THE   COMMUNE  MOVES.  219 


one  blow."  On  a  motion  of  Assi,  the  Committee 
voted  their  thanks  to  Bergeret  and  his  staff.  A 
document  was  drawn  up  and  signed  by  the  Com 
mittee,  and  a  Cavalier  of  the  Republic  left  at  full 
gallop  to  carry  the  thanks  of  the  Commune  to  the 
Place  Vendome. 

Bergeret  was  radiant.  He  sat  on  his  powder  keg 
receiving  the  homage  of  his  officers,  while  at  a  little 
distance  from  him  Jules  Valles,  using  a  box  of  bis 
cuits  as  a  desk,  sat  writing  his  editorial  for  the  next 
morning's  "  Cri  du  Peuple,"  a  villainous  sheet  of 
anarchism. 

It  was  that  same  vile  editorial  which  began  :  "  The 
party  of  order  having  a  fancy  for  disorder,  the 
National  Guard  brought  them  to  their  senses." 

Since  the  nineteenth  of  March  the  "  Pere  Duchene," 
a  vulgar  parody  on  Hebert's  journal,  had  reappeared. 
Its  language  was  incredibly  obscene,  even  for  such 
creatures  as  Vermesch,  Humbert,  and  Villaume,  the 
editors  of  this  ignoble  sheet. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  when  the  news 
of  the  butchery  became  known  in  Paris,  the  city 
was  thrown  into  a  panic.  A  citizen,  decorated  with 
the  legion  of  honor,  accompanied  by  an  officer  of 
the  National  Guard  and  a  captain  of  Franchetti's 
Scouts,  carried  the  tri-color  through  the  Boulevards 
crying,  "  To  arms  !  to  arms  !  "  A  great  throng  of 
citizens  and  loyal  National  Guards  crowded  the 
Place  de  la  Bourse.  Everywhere  stores  and  cafes 
closed  their  shutters,  groups  formed,  and  orators 
denounced  the  insurgents.  In  these  excited  gath 
erings  people  told  each  other  that  it  was  useless  to 


22O  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


parley  with  banditti  who  carried  on  systematized 
assassination.  There  was  but  one  way  :  meet  vio 
lence  with  violence.  The  news  reached  Versailles 
and  produced  a  profound  impression.  The  govern 
ment  was  urged  to  act.  Even  at  that  late  date,  a 
sudden  coup-de-main  on  the  part  of  Thiers  could 
have  saved  the  city.  The  road  from  Versailles  to 
Paris  was  still  open,  it  was  easy  to  seize  the  secteurs 
between  Saint-Denis  and  the  gate  of  Auteuil  with 
the  10,000  men  available,  for  now  that  the  city  was 
aroused  Thiers  could  count  on  all  good  citizens 
and  on  15,000  of  the  loyal  National  Guards  for 
active  aid. 

Even  the  Latin  Quarter  had  risen  and  6,000 
students  offered  their  services.  The  Ecole  Poly- 
technique,  faithful  to  its  honorable  traditions, 
marched  in  a  body  to  the  mayor's  office  and  enrolled 
for  active  service. 

Time  passed,  but  no  word  came  from  Thiers- 
Paris  was  one  great  camp,  half  occupied  by  the  party 
of  order,  half  held  by  the  insurgents  of  the  Com 
mune.  Wearied  at  last  with  waiting  for  Thiers,  the 
party  of  order  began  negotiations  with  the  Hotel 
de  Ville.  These  negotiations  lasted  until  the  even 
ing  of  the  twenty-fifth,  and  on  that  night,  news  was 
proclaimed  that  a  day  had  been  agreed  upon  for  the 
elections.  They  were  fixed  for  the  twenty-sixth  of 
March,  Sunday,  and  the  party  of  order,  quieted  by 
the  assurance  and  pledges  given  by  the  Commune, 
retired,  sent  the  students  back  to  their  schools,  the 
Polytechnique  battalion  to  its  college,  and  disbanded 
the  loyal  battalions  of  the  National  Guard. 


THE   COMMUNE  MOVES.  221 


It  had  been  solemnly  agreed  that  as  soon  as  the 
results  of  the  elections  were  known,  the  Central 
Committee  would  evacuate  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  The 
good  people  who  composed  the  party  of  order  be 
lieved  this,  and  went  to  bed  on  Saturday  night  with 
light  hearts,  determined  to  do  their  duty  as  citizens 
at  the  polls  next  morning. 

At  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  however,  things  were  differ 
ent  that  night.  The  Central  Committee  was  making 
merry,  and  wine  flowed  in  rivers. 

"  What  fools  these  bourgeois ! "  said  Assi  to 
Billioray,  who  smiled  in  reply. 

Raoul  Rigault,  very  drunk,  staggered  to  his  feet 
and  pointing  at  Bergeret  cried  :  "  There  is  the  man 
who  filled  them  full  of  good  lead  and  steel,  and  I 
tell  you  that  I,  when  my  time  comes,  will  not  be 
behind  him !  " 

The  fun  grew  fast  and  furious,  the  echoes  of  the 
revelry  reached  the  street  where  the  hideous  Hussars 
of  Death  were  on  guard  at  the  gates,  and  the  citi 
zens,  passing  with  affrighted  glances,  heard  these 
fantastic  birds  of  ill-omen  croaking  to  each  other  like 
ravens  before  a  battle. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  SHADOW  OF  TERROR. 

IN  the  studio  the  days  succeeded  each  other 
quietly.  Three  times  a  week  Joseph  passed 
and  repassed  the  barricade  on  his  journey  to 
the  St.  Germain  market,  but  he  was  never  molested 
by  the  new  battalion  which  occupied  the  rue  Notre 
Dame.  The  battalion  was  certainly  a  strange  one. 
The  troops  wore  the  pale-blue  uniform  and  red  fez 
of  the  Turco  infantry,  cut  like  the  zouave  uniform 
and  resembling  it  in  all  but  color.  The  many-but 
toned  gaiters  were  white,  the  body  scarf  crimson, 
and  the  arabesques  and  facings  on  the  turquoise 
blue  cloth  were  clear  canary  color. 

It  was  known  as  the  "  First  Battalion  of  Paris 
Turcos,"  and  Philip  learned  from  Joseph  that  its 
colonel  was  an  individual  named  Sarre,  "  a  merry, 
rosy,  round  little  fellow,"  he  said,  "  whose  laugh 
makes  one's  flesh  creep." 

But  Sarre  never  bothered  the  faithful  concierge, 
nor  for  that  matter  did  any  of  the  First  Turcos.  His 
pass  was  in  order,  his  mission  not  at  all  suspicious, 
and  the  sentinels  gossiped  with  him,  cracked  lurid 
jokes  at  his  expense,  and  gave  him  information 
which  he  brought  back  each  day  to  Philip. 

Paris  was  quiet, — with  the  quiet  of  a  victim  await- 

222 


THE   SHADOW  OF    TERROR.  22$ 


ing  death.  The  army  at  Versailles  made  no  visible 
movement,  but  it  was  asserted  in  Paris  that  intrench- 
ments  and  parallels  were  being  pushed  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  fort  of  Issy. 

There  were  rumors  of  an  intended  sortie  in  force 
to  crush  the  army  of  Thiers  before  it  could  be 
strengthened  by  the  prisoners  who  were  arriving 
from  Germany. 

Bergeret  talked  loudly  and  added  several  ounces 
of  gold  braid  to  his  tunic ;  Flourens,  brave,  shifty, 
and  probably  a  little  insane,  stalked  about  in  com 
pany  with  the  sinister,  sneering  Billioray  ;  Duval 
worked  night  and  day  with  Eudes  and  Cluseret  to 
perfect  the  scheme  of  defense,  and  the  Central 
Committee  bickered,  accusing  each  other  and  every 
body  they  knew  of  being  "  suspects,"  until  denun 
ciations,  midnight  visits,  and  sudden  silent  arrests 
terrified  the  revolutionists  themselves.  Nobody  was 
safe ;  nobody,  not  even  the  generals  of  the  Commune, 
not  even  the  members  of  the  Central  Committee, 
dared  face  an  accusation  until  they  could  defend 
themselves  by  a  counter  accusation.  Denunciations 
were  at  a  premium.  He  who  accused  most  violently 
was  the  greatest  patriot.  The  prisons  were  filling, 
and  Raoul  Rigault  raged  everywhere,  urging,  for 
cing,  driving  his  creatures  to  spy,  shadow,  denounce, 
and  arrest.  People  trembled  when  he  passed  ;  even 
his  own  friends,  even  the  members  of  the  Commune 
themselves,  would  avoid  meeting  him  in  the  street  if 
possible.  All  day  long  he  sat  in  his  official  den, 
surrounded  by  his  satellites,  inquiring,  examining,  re- 
proachingthe  unfortunate  citizens  brought  before  him. 


224  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


With  terrible  threats,  or  still  more  terrible  laughter, 
he  would  bellow,  "  Fiche  moi  $a  dedans  !  "  and  the 
prisoner  would  be  seized  and  driven  with  taunts  and 
blows  through  the  streets  to  one  of  the  prisons. 

When  evening  came  this  bloodthirsty  young  man 
doffed  his  scarf  of  office,  dusted  his  clothes,  and 
went  home.  Here,  "business"  finished,  he  affected 
the  airs  of  a  dandy  ;  perfumed  and  gloved,  he  and 
his  familiars  dined  extravagantly  at  some  fashion 
able  restaurant,  and  then,  crossing  the  river  to  the 
Latin  Quarter,  they  spent  the  evening  drinking  with 
degraded  women  in  front  of  the  caf6s  on  the  Boule 
vard  St.  Michel. 

Joseph,  bringing  to  Philip  as  usual  the  gossip  of 
the  barricade,  related,  under  his  breath,  how  Raoul 
Rigault,  drinking  with  his  creatures  on  the  terrace 
of  the  Cafe  Cardinal  the  night  before,  had  cried  with 
an  oath  :  "  I  need  a  bouquet  of  30,000  heads  before 
I  can  clean  out  the  traitors  !  "  The  caf£  was  crowded 
with  students  and  citizens  who  heard,  and  the  next 
day  the  city  knew  and  cowered  lower  than  ever. 

Of  the  rumors  brought  in  by  Joseph,  Landes  did 
not  prevent  many  from  reaching  Jeanne.  It  was 
best  she  should  know  the  truth,  and  he  had  un 
bounded  confidence  in  her  spirit  and  judgment.  He 
pondered  all  sorts  of  plans  for  communicating  with 
the  American  Minister,  but  they  came  to  nothing, 
and  he  tried  in  vain  to  get  messages  to  Jack  Ellice 
and  de  Carette.  He  had  nobody  to  trust  except 
Joseph  and  he  dared  not  draw  suspicion  upon  him, 
because  on  J.oseph's  freedom  to  traverse  the  barri 
cade  rested  their  only  chance  for  food. 


THE    SHADOW   OF   TERROR.  22$ 


So  the  days  passed  very  quietly  in  the  studio. 
Tcherka's  tail  was  still  too  gaudy  to  suit  her  mis 
tress'  taste,  and  the  puppy  dug  more  than  enough 
holes  in  the  garden.  The  warm  breath  of  the  coming 
spring  started  the  pink  buds  on  the  almond  trees,  the 
lilac  leaves  uncoiled  in  delicate  green,  the  goldfish  al 
most  became  animated,  and  the  blackbird  was  wooing 
his  mate,  a  soft-eyed  wild  creature  which  had  come 
into  the  garden  from  Heaven  knows  where,  and  sat 
all  day  on  the  tip  of  the  almond  tree.  Such  songs 
as  the  blackbird  sang  !  What  wonder  that  the  shy 
new-comer  listened  !  Then  one  day  Jeanne  came  in, 
radiant,  and  led  Philip  out  to  the  almond  tree.  High 
on  a  safe,  slender  branch  nestled  the  rudiments  of  a 
nest.  The  blackbird,  proud  and  happy,  balanced 
himself  above  it  and  held  a  bit  of  straw  in  his  bright 
yellow  bill.  The  lover  had  turned  architect.  It  is 
true  that  he  occasionally  forgot,  and  let  the  straw  or 
twig  fall  while  he  sang  a  little,  but  his  mate  never 
found  fault  and  the  building  of  their  little  home  con 
tinued.  Tcherka  licked  her  whiskers  and  blinked  at 
it.  It  was  too  safe. 

The  rue  Notre  Dame  was  constantly  patrolled  by 
the  sentinels  of  the  First  Turcos. 

Philip  never  went  near  the  outer  wicket,  but  from 
the  entrance  to  the  ivy-covered  alley  he  could  see 
them  without  being  seen.  Once,  when  a  group  of 
officers  passed,  he  imagined  he  recognized  Sarre  in 
a  fat  little  wretch  who  wore  the  baggy  scarlet  trou 
sers  of  the  Turco  officers,  with  the  triple  blue 
stripe,  the  gold-embroidered  kepi,  and  the  pale 
blue  jacket.  However,  the  officers  passed  without 


226  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


a  glance  at  the  wicket,  and  his  nervousness  gradu 
ally  wore  off. 

Jeanne  posed  for  him  every  day,  sometimes  sitting 
on  the  edge  of  the  stone  fountain,  sometimes  lying 
in  a  hammock  which  he  had  swung  for  her  between 
the  almond  trees. 

When  showers  fell  she  posed  in  the  studio,  and  it 
was  there  that  he  began  and  finished  the  beautiful 
portrait  called  "  Youth,"  which  has  since  been  ac 
quired  by  the  French  government. 

Jeanne  never  wearied  of  watching  Philip  while  he 
painted.  He  had  a  habit  of  biting  his  under  lip 
when  he  worked  which  gave  a  peculiarly  serious 
expression  to  his  youthful  face.  This  impressed 
Jeanne.  From  the  first  she  had  no  doubt  that,  if 
Philip  was  not  already  one  of  the  greatest  of  artists, 
his  becoming  so  was  merely  a  question  of  time.  Her 
admiration  and  her  delight  in  his  color  were  genuine. 
Her  enthusiasm  stirred  him  profoundly,  and,  per 
haps,  but  for  that  the  portrait  of  "  Youth  "  might 
never  have  been  finished. 

Until  now  he  had  never  taken  himself  seriously. 
Although  his  respect  for  his  work  had  been  great  at 
all  times,  his  self-confidence  was  incrusted  with  cyni 
cism,  and  he  never  could  understand  why  he  con 
tinued  to  study  his  profession. 

Sometimes  for  weeks  together  he  did  not  touch  a 
brush ;  it  is  true  that  he  was  always  staring  at  the 
sunlight  or  the  blue  tracery  of  shadows.  Pure  notes 
of  glowing  color  thrilled  him  with  pleasure.  Unlike 
many  of  his  comrades,  he  never  saw  in  nature  any 
thing  unhealthy  or  colorless,  nor,  when  he  walked 


THE   SHADOW  OF   TERROR. 

under  blue  skies,  did  nature  transpose  itself  into 
human  nature. 

He  read  the  poets  who  compared  the  interlacing 
of  forest  trees  to  human  embraces,  who  sang  of 
innocent  flowers  and  attributed  to  them  the  passions 
of  human  beings,  and  it  nauseated  him.  He  never 
could  see  that  a  splendid  snow  peak  resembled  a 
woman's  breast.  It  always  looked  like  a  snow  peak 
to  him.  The  murmur  of  the  sea  had  for  him  noth 
ing  of  human  desire.  He  loved  nature  for  herself. 

Jeanne  and  he  exchanged  few  words  on  the  sub 
ject,  but  each  was  sure  of  the  other's  sympathy  and 
understanding. 

A  sunbeam  searching  the  depths  of  the  brown 
water  in  the  fountain,  a  shadow  trembling  on  the 
white  wall,  a  breeze  whispering  among  the  lilacs, — 
then  a  glance,  the  flutter  of  the  lashes,  a  faint  smile, 
and  their  hearts  were  at  ease,  for  each  had  read  and 
loved  the  other's  thoughts. 

When  Philip's  hand  faltered  and  the  light  was 
shifty,  when  the  sun  became  overcast  and  the  sur 
face  of  his  canvas  changed  color  like  a  chameleon, 
Jeanne  would  rise  from  her  seat  and  say:  "Come, 
Philip,  I  wish  to  walk  in  the  garden."  Then  with 
pretty  ceremony  she  would  accept  his  arm,  and  they 
would  stroll  gravely  over  the  gravel  as  if  they  were 
sauntering  through  a  portion  of  some  vast  estate. 

On  one  of  these  limited  tours  they  stopped  to 
watch  a  mottled  garden  toad  making  his  way  toward 
a  hole  in  the  wall.  His  gait  and  personality  were 
obtrusive  and  vulgar  and  Jeanne  turned  up  her 
nose. 


228  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Oh,  he  's  an  old  acquaintance,"  said  Philip,  "  he 
comes  out  every  spring." 

"  He  is  very  common,"  said  Jeanne ;  "  I  never 
imagined  any  little  creature  of  God  could  look  so 
underbred." 

"  He  's  not  graceful,"  said  Phillip,  smiling;  "you 
should  see  him  jumping  after  gnats  on  a  summer 
evening.  I  call  him  '  Monsieur  Prudhomme.'" 

"  What  a  name  for  a  toad  !  " 

"  It  suits  him.  See  !  he  has  just  given  one  of  his 
graceful  leaps." 

Jeanne  threw  back  her  pretty  head  and  laughed. 
Monsieur  Prudhomme  squatted  in  the  tender  spring 
grass,  unconcerned,  callous,  emotionless.  He  had 
swallowed  a  giddy  young  beetle  and  was  digesting 
it.  Toodles  came  along  and  nearly  barked  himself 
out  of  his  skin  at  the  sight  of  Monsieur  Prudhomme, 
but  kept  at  a  safe  distance,  describing  eccentric  cir 
cles  round  him  until  Philip,  gently  but  unceremoni 
ously,  shoved  Monsieur  Prudhomme  through  a  hole 
in  the  garden  wall. 

"Do  you  wish  to  paint  any  more?"  inquired 
Jeanne. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  feel  lazy.  How  warm  the 
sunshine  is.  I  believe  those  lilacs  are  budding." 

"  Oh,  I  knew  that  yesterday,"  she  said.  "  There  is 
a  violet  already  out  in  that  bed  over  there.  I  saw 
it  this  morning  from  my  hammock." 

He  started  for  the  violet  bed,  but  she  called  to 
him  :  "  You  are  not  to  pick  it  you  know."  He 
came  back  smiling. 


THE   SHADOW  OF    TERROR.  229 


"  Won 't  you  have  it  for  a  souvenir  of  our 
garden  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  and  sang  softly  : 

"  Le  souvenir,  present  celeste, 
Ombre  des  biens  que  Ton  n'  a  plus, 
Est  encore  un  plaisir  qui  reste, 
Apres  tous  ceux  qu'on  a  perdus." 

"  I  don't  want  a  souvenir  now,  and  I  shall  not 
need  one  then." 

"  I  suppose  a  shade  is  all  that  will  remain  of  these 
days  in  a  little  while,"  said  Philip.  She  glanced  at 
him  wistfully  without  replying.  As  for  him  he  was 
looking  another  way. 

"  Well,"  she  said  at  last,  "  if  all  the  rest  is  lost 
will  it  not  be  good  to  have  even  the  shade?" 

"  But  that  will  soon  go  too,  Jeanne." 

"  No,  I  shall  keep  it  as  long  as  I  live.  And  that 
will  be  a  long  time,"  she  added  lightly,  shaking 
off  her  seriousness.  "  I  mean  to  be  a  very  old  lady, 
if  you  please,  Monsieur,  I  intend  to  live  a  great  while 
and  be  very  happy — 

A  violent  ringing  at  the  gate  interrupted  her. 
She  turned  white  and  looked  at  Philip  with  wide 
startled  eyes. 

"  Now  who  can  that  be  ?  "  he  muttered.  "  Jeanne, 
go  back  to  the  studio  quickly." 

"  I  shall  remain  here,"  she  said,  with  a  little  catch 
in  her  breath.  "  Oh,  Philip,  can  it  be  the  Commune 
has  found  you  ?" 

"  Me  ?     It  is  you  they  are  after." 

"  They  can't  harm  me,  but  you — oh,  Philip !  " 


230  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Do  as  I  ask  you,  Jeanne,  go  to  your  room  at 
once."  She  refused  to  move  and  looked  at  him 
imploringly. 

"Can  you  get  over  the  wall?"  she  whispered. — 
"  Quick  !  I  'm  sure  you  can.  I  will  meet  them — I 
can  detain  them.  Oh  !  go,  Philip !  " 

He  looked  down  into  her  face.  "  Won't  you 
please  go  into  the  studio  ?  " 

She  refused  with  a  slight  shake  of  her  head.  The 
gate  creaked,  steps  sounded  along  the  alley. 

"They  are  coming!"  gasped  Jeanne,  and  threw 
both  arms  around  his  neck. 

Before  Jeanne  could  take  her  arms  away  again  a 
man  in  a  long  blue  blouse  flung  his  cap  on  the 
ground  and  rushed  at  Philip  who  stared  at  him  and 
shouted,  "  Ellice  !  "  and  while  they  were  hugging 
each  other  like  two  Frenchmen  she  had  time  to 
realize  that  the  man's  companion,  who  wore  the 
dress  of  a  market  woman  of  the  Halles,  was  Ma 
demoiselle  de  St.  Brieuc. 

"  Jack  !  "  cried  Landes.     "  Are  you  all  right  ?  " 

"  I  am — and  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  'm  all  right.    Where  is  Alain  de  Carette?  " 

"  At  Versailles." 

"  How  did  you  pass  the  barricade  ?  " 

Jack  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  fountain,  drew 
a  large  red  bandanna  handkerchief  from  the  recesses 
of  his  blouse,  wiped  his  face  with  it,  looked  after 
Mademoiselle  de  St.  Brieuc  who  was  disappearing 
with  Jeanne  through  the  studio  door,  and  laughed. 

"  We  're  beauties, — what  do  you  think,  Philip  ? 
We  sell  vegetables  now.  Our  baskets  are  in  Joseph's 


THE   SHADOW   OF   TERROR.  231 


lodge  at  the  gate.  Did  you  think  of  buying  a  few 
cabbages  ?  " 

"  Tell  me  how  you  got  here,"  repeated  Philip. 

"  Well,  I  hardly  know  myself.  You  Ve  got  a 
nasty  barricade  on  the  corner,  have  n't  you  ?  " 

"  We  have  !     Go  on  !  " 

"  Well — we  decided  that  we  must  get  to  you  some 
how  or  other  ;- — yesterday  we  sold  your  rascally  Tur- 
cos  artichokes  and  musty  turnips,  but  they  would  n't 
let  us  through  the  lines,  and  we  tried  again  to-day. 
Just  now,  as  we  reached  the  barricade,  the  street 
suddenly  went  mad.  A  commissary's  wagon  which 
was  bringing  in  a  lot  of  live  poultry  struck  a  cannon 
and  tipped  over.  You  ought  to  have  seen  those  hens 
and  turkeys  scratching  gravel  to  get  away,  and  those 
thieving  Turcos  after  them.  A  fat  rooster  ran  be 
tween  my  legs  and  the  Turco  in  chase  knocked  me 
flat  in  his  hurry  to  grab  the  fowl.  When  I  got  up 
they  both  were  running  and  squawking  down  the 
street.  The  officers  could  n't  do  anything  with  the 
men.  The  barricade  was  empty  in  no  time,  every 
body  chasing  turkeys.  Mademoiselle  de  St.  Brieuc 
and  I  saw  our  chance,  and  we  simply  walked  through 
an  opening  in  the  barricade,  and  before  anyone  could 
detect  us  we  were  hidden  by  the  corner  of  the  street 
above  the  convent.  There  was  a  sentry  up  by  the 
rue  Bara  but  I  suppose  he  thought  it  was  all  right — as 
long  as  we  had  passed  the  barricade.  When  he  was  n't 
looking  we  pulled  the  bell — and  here  we  are." 

"  If  you  knew  how  welcome  !  Come  in  and  be 
comfortable !  "  cried  Landes,  and  he  led  the  way  to 
the  studio. 


232  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Joseph,"  said  he,  dragging  a  lounge  into  the 
bedroom,  "  will  make  up  a  bed  on  this  for  one  of  us, 
and  there  is  my  bed  for  the  other.  Mademoiselle 
de  St.  Brieuc  will  share  the  room  of  Mademoiselle 
de  Brassac  of  course " 

"  Oh,  I  won't  stay.  You  can't  put  up  four  in  a 
place  only  meant  for  two.  Mademoiselle  de  St. 
Brieuc  is  glad  to  be  with  another  woman,  of  course, 
but — after  I  've  seen  you  a  little  while  I  '11  go  and 
shift  for  myself." 

"  Oh !  will  you  ?  How  will  you  pass  the  barricade  ?  " 

"  Bluff  it." 

"And  do  you  know  the  penalty  for  bluffing  it?  " 

"  No,  what  's  the  penalty?  " 

"  Shooting  on  the  spot  without  court-martial." 
Jack  looked  blank.  "  What  's  the  sense  of  looking 
that  way  ?  "  said  Philip. 

"  But  I  did  n't  mean — 

"  Did  n't  you  mean  to  risk  your  life  to  help  me  in 
the  Impasse  de  la  Mort  ?  I  think  you  did,  Jack. 
Is  n't  it  rather  late  to  stand  on  ceremony  with  me? 
Besides  do  you  realize  that  I  have  been  a  prisoner 
here  ever  since  that  night,  without  speaking  to  a 
man  except  Joseph  ?  " 

"  What  about  food  ?  " 

"  Joseph  has  a  pass.  It 's  only  marketing  for  four 
instead  of  two." 

"  Well,  if  you  put  it  that  way.  But  it  did  n't 
seem  when  we  came  in  just  now  as  if  you  had  found 
the  absence  of  male  society — 

"  Here,"  interrupted  Philip,  dryly,  "  don't  you  want 
linen  and  some  decent  clothes  ?  " 


THE    SHADOW  OF   TERROR.  233 


"  I  do  indeed.  This  blouse  is  not  perfumed  with 
violet." 

"  Well — you  know  the  place  as  well  as  I  do. 
There  's  the  dressing  case,  here  's  the  bath,  filled, — 
and  I  Ve  had  reason  before  now  to  think  my  clothes 
fitted  you  !  " 

"  Pure  calumny,"  said  Ellice,  shedding  his  blouse, 
— "  where  are  the  towels  ?  What  are  you  laughing 
at  ?  Get  out  or  I  '11  splash  !  " 

Landes  went  out  into  the  studio  where  the  con 
cierge  was  poking  the  fire  and  waiting  for  orders. 
Giving  him  instructions  to  provide  for  four,  Philip 
strolled  on  into  the  garden  and  sat  down  on  the 
edge  of  the  fountain  to  smoke  a  cigarette.  The  last 
rays  of  the  sun  fell  aslant  the  gravel  where  the  toad 
squatted,  cold  and  motionless. 

"  So  you  're  back  again,  my  friend,"  laughed 
Philip.  For  a  while  he  sat  and  smoked,  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  Monsieur  Prudhomme,  but  he  was  not 
thinking  of  Monsieur  Prudhomme.  The  two  gold 
fish  floated  near  the  surface  of  the  water,  staring 
intently  until  a  flighty  new-born  gnat  tumbled  into 
the  basin,  then  they  jumped  together  and  fell  back 
with  loud  flops. 

"  That  must  have  been  a  gnat,"  he  thought,  "the 
first  this  spring.  It  is  already  spring,  the  lilacs  will 
be  in  bloom  by  next  week,  so  will  the  almonds  and 
acacias.  What  will  the  spring  bring  to  us — to 
Jeanne  and  to  me  ?  What  will  it  bring  to  Paris — to 
France  ?  "  He  thought  of  the  strange  year  that  had 
just  ended — the  battles  and  rumors  of  battles  of  the 
summer,  the  disaster  of  Sedan  in  the  autumn,  the 


234  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


siege  with  its  wintry  horrors  and  desolation,  the  sur 
render  and  the  entry  of  the  German  hordes.  How 
long  was  this  era  of  battle  to  continue  ?  The  new 
year  had  begun  badly.  January  passed  amid  an 
iron  tempest  from  the  Prussian  siege  guns.  From 
the  fifth  until  the  twenty-seventh  of  the  month, 
great  shells  fell  like  monstrous  meteors  in  Paris, 
blowing  to  fragments  women  and  children  as  well 
as  the  city's  defenders,  tearing  houses  to  pieces, 
smashing  churches,  spreading  terror  and  death  even 
in  the  hospitals  where  the  helpless  wounded  lay. 

February,  the  month  of  starvation,  began  with 
famine  and  ended  in  riots.  March  had  now  just 
ended,  but  what  a  month  of  horror  had  died  with  it. 
This  was  the  third  of  April.  What  would  April 
bring  ? 

He  sat  there  thinking ;  the  old  jingle  kept  running 
through  his  mind  until  he  repeated  it  aloud, 

"  April  showers, 
Bring  forth  May  flowers." 

He  little  knew  how  truly  the  old  rhyme  rang,  for 
the  April  showers  were  to  be  showers  of  blood,  and 
the  May  blossoms,  the  crimson  flower  of  Anarchy. 

Twilight  fell  as  he  sat  pondering  by  the  fountain, 
and  already  in  the  studio  a  lamp  glowed  through 
the  drawn  curtains.  After  a  while  Mile,  de  Brassac 
came  to  the  doorway  and  looked  out  into  the  garden. 
She  could  not  see  him  in  the  shadows,  and  she  called 
softly,  "  Philip,  where  are  you  ?  "  He  rose  at  once 
and  walked  to  her.  He  thought  of  her  arms  around 
his  neck  an  hour  before  and  felt  his  cheeks  burning 
in  the  darkness,  but  all  the  constraint  was  on  his  side. 


THE   SHADOW  OF   TERROR.  235 


"  You  will  catch  cold  without  your  hat,"  she  said, 
u  come  in." 

"  Is  Mademoiselle  de  Saint  Brieuc  well  ?  " 

"  Quite  well.  I  have  lent  her  everything  she 
needs." 

"  Well,  you  will  be  happy  now  to  have  a  compan 
ion  here  with  you." 

"Yes — oh  yes.  She  is  very  charming.  Her  name 
is  Marguerite,"  she  said  in  a  low  sweet  voice. 

"  Good-bye  to  our  little  promenades  then,"  he 
said  sulkily. 

For  a  moment  she  looked  at  him  without  speaking, 
and  he  felt  very  silly  standing  there  on  the  step 
below  her. 

"  Come,"  he  said  at  last,  "  we  must  go  into  the 
studio.  Is  Ellice  there?" 

"  Monsieur  Ellice  is  talking  with  Mademoiselle 
de  Saint  Brieuc  before  the  fire.  If  you  had  your  hat 
on  we  might  take  a  little  tour  in  the  garden." 

With  a  laugh  she  threw  her  scarf  over  his  head 
and  tied  it  like  a  turban.  Then  she  stepped  to  the 
ground  and  took  his  arm. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  muttered ;  she  bent  her  head 
gently  and  they  moved  out  through  the  dark  garden. 

Twice  they  made  the  circuit  in  silence  ;  his  heart 
was  beating  very  fast  and  the  light  touch  of  her 
hand  on  his  arm  filled  him  with  sensations  which  he 
was  too  happy  to  analyze. 

"  We  must  go  in,"  she  said,  as  they  approached 
the  doorway  for  the  third  time.  He  unwound  the 
scarf  and  placed  it  about  her  neck.  Still  she  lin 
gered  a  moment,  her  hands  clasped  behind  her  back, 
her  fair  face  half  turned  from  his. 


236  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  I  hope  we  shall  have  many  more  little  walks 
together  in  our  garden,"  she  said, — "  if  you  wish 
it,  Philip." 

"  I  do,"  he  replied  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Come,"  she  whispered,  "  I  hear  Joseph  bringing 
the  silver.  Dinner  will  be  served  before  you  are 
ready." 

He  followed  her  into  the  studio  and  went  up  to  the 
fireplace,  where  Mademoiselle  de  Saint  Brieuc  was 
sitting,  with  Jack  lounging  on  the  rug  beside  her,  and 
Toodles  bestowing  his  clumsy  cheerfulness  impar 
tially  on  them  both.  Philip  explained  the  arrange 
ments  he  had  made  for  their  accommodation.  "  I 
wish  I  could  say  comfort,"  he  added. 

"  I  will  say  it  then.  You  will  be  more  than  com 
fortable  if  you  have  Monsieur  Landes  for  your  host," 
said  Jeanne,  looking  after  Philip,  who  had  started 
toward  his  room  to  get  ready  for  dinner.  He  heard 
without  looking  back,  but  all  the  time  he  was  dress 
ing  he  was  asking  himself  what  was  the  quality  in 
Jeanne  de  Brassac  which  made  a  man  feel  so  proud 
at  her  lighest  approval. 

"  Did  you  find  your  gardener's  dress  a  good  dis 
guise,  Jack?  "  he  asked  when  he  rejoined  them. 

"  Perfectly — even  to  the  perfume.  That  peasant 
who  owned  it  was  a  friend  in  need,  but  he  was  n't 
tidy." 

"  You  don't  think  anyone  could  have  suspected 
you  ?  " 

"  No  one  did,  it  appears." 

"  And  your  French  is  not  all  it  might  be,  either," 
mused  Philip,  "  but  perhaps  you  did  n't  talk  much. 


THE   SHADOW  OF   TERROR.  237 


It 's  our  voices  and  inflections  that  betray  us,"  he 
added  thoughtfully. 

"  Not  yours,  Monsieur  Landes,"  said  Mademoiselle 
de  Saint  Brieuc  ;  "you  speak  like  a  Frenchman." 

He  gave  her  a  searching  glance  to  see  if  it  were  a 
compliment  or  sincerely  meant.  "  But  you  must 
know  you  do,"  put  in  Jeanne.  "  Here  comes  Joseph 
with  the  soup  ;  will  you  give  me  your  arm,  Monsieur 
Ellice?" 

During  dinner  Jack  Ellice  did  most  of  the  talking, 
with  constant  appeals  to  Mademoiselle  de  Saint 
Brieuc.  It  was  evident  that  Jack  fancied  himself  in 
love  with  her,  and  that  her  manner  of  receiving  his 
homage  was  more  peremptory  than  flattering.  It 
was  a  mixture  of  indulgence  and  impatience  which 
said  she  thought  him  an  excellent  boy,  but  centuries 
younger  than  herself.  His  love  was  not  very  obtru 
sive,  being  confined  to  sudden  lapses  into  silent  sen 
timental  contemplation  of  the  young  lady,  who  was 
certainly  very  pretty.  Then  after  a  few  minutes  he 
would  emerge  and  remain  in  a  normal  condition  for 
hours. 

His  temperament  was  winning,  his  character  fickle, 
he  was  true-hearted,  kind,  and  brave,  and  only  tire 
some  when  under  his  sentimental  spells.  He  never 
met  a  pretty  woman  without  falling  in  love  in  this, 
manner,  and  then  suddenly,  without  the  least  warn 
ing,  the  spoony  part  of  his  affection  would  vanish, 
and  a  hearty  friendship  would  remain  in  its  place. 
With  Jack,  to  love  a  woman  once  was  to  have  an 
immense  kindness  for  her  ever  after. 

When  dinner  was   over  Jeanne  insisted  that  the 


238  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


men  should  smoke  ;  so  they  lighted  cigarettes,  and 
Philip,  blowing  a  luxurious  whiff  to  the  ceiling, 
called  upon  Ellice  to  tell  his  story. 

"  And  no  embellishments,  Monsieur  Jack,"  said 
Mademoiselle  de  Saint  Brieuc,  teasingly ;  "  I  am 
here  to  correct  any  mistakes,  you  know." 

"  It  does  n't  need  any  embellishments.  It 's  weird 
enough  without  any,  but  I  '11  not  be  a  party  to  any 
belittling  of  what  I  call  the  most  astounding  and 
diverting  adventures  of  the  Demoiselle  Marguerite 
de  Saint  Brieuc — and  her  faithful — 

"Yes,  Monsieur  Ellice,"  said  Jeanne,  gently,  "but 
unhappily  the  adventures  are  not  over  yet.  Mustn't 
we  take  them  a  little  seriously  until  they  are  fin 
ished  ?  " 

Jack  made  her  a  bow  and  went  on  gravely : 

"  Mademoiselle  is  right.  The  situation  is  serious 
enough,  and  nothing  is  gained  by  pretending  not  to 
think  so.  When  we  left  you  in  the  cab  we  expected 
to  meet  you  again  at  my  studio  within  an  hour.  Cap 
tain  de  Carette  was  unconscious  and  Mademoiselle 
de  Saint  Brieuc  had  some  difficulty  in  replacing  the 
bandages  on  his  wounds.  I  think  they  slipped  that 
time  when  Tribert  knocked  him  down,  you  know." 

"  I  know." 

"  I  think  Captain  de  Carette  regained  conscious 
ness  before  we  reached  the  rue  de  Sfax,  did  n't  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Marguerite,  briefly. 

"  Well, — when  we  had  crossed  the  Passage  de  Lille 
and  were  about  to  enter  the  rue  de  Sfax,  Mademoiselle 
de  Saint  Brieuc,  who  was  looking  ahead  from  the  cab 
window,  suddenly  cried  out  to  me  to  stop  the  driver. 


THE    SHADOW  OF   TERROR.  239 


I  did  so,  of  course, — lucky  for  us  she  was  on  the 
lookout.  The  whole  street  was  full  of  Federal  troops 
raising  Cain.  They  were  all  drunk,  yelling  like  mad 
men  and  firing  their  rifles  into  the  air,  so  our  cabby 
backed  his  horses  into  the  passage  de  Lille  which 
was  as  dark  as  pitch.  I  got  out  and  stole  up  to  the 
corner  to  reconnoitre.  The  Federals  were  dragging 
a  man  out  of  a  vestibule,  howling  and  cursing,  and 
discharging  their  rifles  in  every  direction.  They  fin 
ished  the  poor  fellow  with  their  bayonets  and  left 
him — never  mind  how.  I  was  simply  rooted  to  the 
spot,  and  next  thing  I  saw  them  break  into  another 
house,  and  after  driving  every  occupant  into  the 
street,  pillage  and  wreck  it  from  roof  to  basement. 
I  could  see  them  raging  through  the  rooms  with 
lighted  torches.  Then  they  all  came  out  again  and 
yelled  '  Vive  la  Commune — a  mort  Lebeau  ! '  Le- 
beau  !  I  thought,  why,  that  is  the  man  who  disci 
plined  the  National  Guard  during  the  siege !  He 
lived  in  the  rue  de  Sfax.  Then  a  thought  struck  me 
and  made  me  jump.  Whose  house  was  it  they  were 
wrecking  and  preparing  to  burn?  Sure  enough, 
when  I  crept  along  close  to  the  wall,  and  got  near 
enough  to  see — it  was  my  house  and  the  furniture 
of  my  studio,  and  the  remains  of  my  pictures  lay, 
with  what  was  left  of  Monsieur  Lebeau,  in  the  middle 
of  the  street. 

"  I  did  n't  waste  much  time  there  after  that,  but 
before  I  got  away  a  National  Guard  fired  at  me,  and 
when  I  left  the  bullets  were  flying  down  the  rue  de 
Sfax.  Cabby  set  off  at  a  gallop, — it  was  all  Mademoi 
selle  de  Saint  Brieuc  could  do  to  make  him  wait  for 


240  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


me,  and  he  never  pulled  up  until  we  were  on  the  Boule 
vard  St.  Michel.  Then  he  wanted  us  to  get  out ;  he 
said  we  need  n't  pay  him  if  we  'd  only  go.  The  jolt 
ing  had  loosened  Captain  de  Carette's  bandages,  and 
he  was  almost  helpless  from  loss  of  blood.  I  told 
Cabby  to  go  ahead,  and  we  started  in  search  of  lod- 
gings.  You  can  imagine  how  careful  we  had  to  be. 
A  wounded  officer  would  have  queered  us  badly 
with  the  wrong  sort  of  landlord.  But  it  was  easy  to 
avoid  committing  ourselves,  for  the  friends  of  the 
Commune  were  bawling  for  the  Commune,  and  that 
helped  us  very  much  in  selecting  our  hotel-keeper. 
After  a  long  search  we  found  one  who  was  so  quiet 
we  thought  we  could  venture  to  trust  him,  and  sure 
enough  he  was  loyal, — Verdier,  the  landlord  of  the 
Boule  d'Or,  a  little  hotel  on  the  Boulevard  St.  Mi 
chel.  We  got  Captain  de  Carette  to  bed,  and  Ma 
demoiselle  de  Saint  Brieuc  dressed  his  wound  while 
we  were  waiting  for  a  surgeon.  When  the  doctor 
came  he  said  he  could  n't  have  done  better  him 
self " 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur  Jack  ! — he  said  nothing  of  the 
kind." 

"  He  said  the  bandages  were  all  right,  did  n't  he  ?  " 

"  He  said  they  did  very  well — but  that  is  of  no 
consequence,  anyway.  Please  go  on." 

"  Well,  the  doctor  was  just  on  the  point  of  leav 
ing  for  Versailles  and  he  had  a  pass  from  Raoul 
Rigault,  so  we  just  forged  another  for  de  Carette. 
Mademoiselle  de  Saint  Brieuc  absolutely  refused  to 
let  us  provide  her  with  one  also." 

"  It  was  too  dangerous,"  said  the  young  lady  ;  "  one 


THE   SHADOW  OF   TERROR.  24! 


forgery  was  likely  to  succeed,  but  a  second,  and  for 
a  lady,  would  have  been  scrutinized." 

"  So  the  doctor  took  the  Captain  into  his  own 
carriage — and  carried  him  off,"  said  Ellice,  soberly. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Alain — but  no,  you 
could  n't." 

"  Verdier  had  a  letter  from  the  doctor,  after  they 
arrived  at  Versailles.  He  said  his  patient  was  all 
right — getting  on,  and  would  soon  be  ready  for  ac 
tive  service  again.  And  Captain  de  Carette  sent  his 
gratitude  and  his  devoted  service  to  the  lady.  The 
letter  said — 

"  I  told  you  I  should  correct  you  when  you  made 
mistakes,"  interposed  Mademoiselle  de  Saint  Brieuc, 
hastily. 

"  Very  well,  but  this  is  n't  one,  you  know.  I  read 
it  myself." 

"  And  did  he  not  mention  you  at  all  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  he  sent  his  regards  to  me." 

"  And  he  said  nothing  about  courage  and  gener 
osity  ?  " 

"  I  forget — I  forget  in  fact  everything  that  hap 
pened  for  the  next  few  days,  excepting  one  which 
drove  all  the  rest  out  of  my  head." 

Philip  wondered  if  Jack  could  possibly  be  going 
to  forget  his  good  manners  and  say  that  the  com 
pany  of  Mademoiselle  de  Saint  Brieuc  had  driven 
everything  else  out  of  his  head. 

"  No,"  Landes  decided,  "  he  can't  be  such  a  fool," 
and  said  aloud,  "  What  was  it  ?  " 

"  Merely  that  two  days  after  we  were  installed  in 

the  Boule  d'Or  I  thought  it  safe  to  venture  out,  and 

16 


242  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


I  strolled  down  the  Boulevard  St.  Michel — intend 
ing  to  find  out  if  I  could  what  had  become  of  you. 
I  was  passing  a  corner  and  I  noticed  a  crowd  around 
a  bulletin,  a  big  flaming  poster,  so  I  stopped  to  read 
it.  Imagine  my  abject  terror  when  I  found  myself 
reading  a  description  of  myself  with  a  reward  for 
my  apprehension,  signed  by  Raoul  Rigault.  My 
knees  knocked  together — they  did  indeed — "  as  Ma 
demoiselle  de  Saint  Brieuc  looked  up  incredulously. 
"You  were  mentioned  too,  Philip — dead  or  alive 
we  're  both  wanted  by  Raoul  Rigault.  Mademoi 
selle  de  Brassac  and  Mademoiselle  de  Saint  Brieuc 
also  occupied  several  lines  of  large  type,  but  they  're 
not  wanted  dead.  Well — I  went  back  to  the  Boule 
d'Or  and  stayed  there.  Verdier  came  and  held 
a  consultation  with  us.  Mademoiselle  de  Saint 
Brieuc's  family  live  in  Tours ;  her  friends  here  had 
all  fled  to  Versailles  or  elsewhere.  She  was  good 
enough  to  admit  that  she  felt  safer  with  my  com 
pany  than  without  it— 

"  I  admitted  much  more  of  my  confidence  and 
esteem  for  you  than  that,  Monsieur  Jack." 

Jack  colored  with  pleasure  and  went  on:  "Ver 
dier  finally  advised  us  to  try  our  luck  at  the  barri 
cade.  There  was  a  market  gardener  and  his  Avife 
who  sold  garden  stuff  to  him — he  bought  their 
clothes  of  them  for  six  times  what  they  were  worth, 
assuring  them  that  if  Raoul  Rigault  ever  heard  of 
the  transaction  they  would  be  corpses  the  same  day. 
We  put  on  the  things  in  spite  of  their  smells — and 
sold  vegetables  at  your  barricade  until  we  got  in. 
That  's  all." 


N 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A    DANGEROUS   QUEST. 

EXT  morning  before  six  o'clock  Landes 
was  writing  a  note.  •  It  said,  when  fin 
ished  : 


"  DEAR  JACK: — Now  you  are  here  to  take  my  place, 
I  must  go  and  see  if  I  can't  find  some  help.  Your 
blue  blouse,  etc.,  will  do  for  a  disguise — if  they 
served  you  they  will  me.  I  am  going  along  the 
wall  to  the  Passage  Stanislas,  and  unless  I  have  bad 
luck  I  shall  drop  into  the  street  there  and  make  as 
best  I  can  for  the  Boule  d'Or.  I  hope  your  loyal 
landlord  Verdier  will  befriend  me  as  he  did  you, 
and  will  somehow  manage  to  get  a  message  into  the 
hands  of  our  Minister.  Anyway,  it  's  worth  trying, 
and  I  don't  think  the  risk  is  great. 

"  I  expect  to  be  here  again  before  dark.  Mademoi 
selle  de  Brassac  will  know  that  I  am  doing  no  more 
than  my  duty  and  will  forgive  my  not  taking  leave. 

"  My  best  services  to  both  the  ladies.  Keep  them 
and  yourself  in  spirits,  Jack. 

"  Yours, 

"  PHILIP." 

He  sealed  the  note,  and  addressed  it  to  Ellice. 
Then  he  drew  the  gardener's  blouse  over  his  head, 

24-3 


244  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


pulled  on  the  shabby  trousers,  and  took  up  the  cap 
and  bandanna  handkerchief. 

He  stood  a  moment  thinking,  then  placing  the 
letter  on  the  night-table  beside  the  bed,  he  quietly 
entered  the  studio.  Tcherka  came  to  rub  against 
his  legs  but  he  did  not  notice  her,  for  he  was  look 
ing  up  to  the  little  balcony  and  Jeanne  de  Brassac's 
door.  Next  moment  he  was  in  the  garden. 

There  was  a  ladder  lying  under  a  peach  tree,  and 
he  picked  it  up  and  placed  it  against  the  wall.  The 
wall  was  high,  but  he  had  no  difficulty  in  climbing 
to  the  top  and  walking  along  it  until  he  reached  the 
intersecting  wall  of  the  garden  in  the  rear.  This  was 
also  broad  but  much  overgrown  with  rose  vines. 
He  tore  his  blouse  on  the  thorns  and  scratched  his 
face  and  hands,  but  he  had  no  difficulty  in  following 
it  until  it  took  a  sudden  turn  and  he  came  in  sight 
of  the  Passage  Stanislas.  But  now  another  wall 
covered  with  tiles  blocked  his  way  and  he  spent  ten 
minutes  in  trying  to  scale  it.  He  failed,  but  there 
was  a  chestnut  tree  growing  close  to  the  wall  in  the 
garden  below,  so  he  dropped  to  the  ground,  scram 
bled  up  the  tree,  and  swung  himself  across  to  the 
tiled  wall.  In  a  minute  more  he  lay  flat  on  his 
stomach  along  the  wall  which  borders  the  Passage 
Stanislas,  and  peered  down  to  where  the  rue  Notre 
Dame  curves  by  the  convent.  There  were  no  senti 
nels  in  sight,  the  alley  and  the  street  were  silent  and 
deserted  ;  he  quietly  dropped  to  the  sidewalk  and 
hurried  toward  the  Boulevard  Montparnasse. 

It  was  a  queer  sensation  to  find  himself  walking 
in  the  street  again.  He  looked  about  as  if  he  had 


A    DANGEROUS  QUEST.  245 


suddenly  dropped  into  a  strange  city.  People 
passed  him,  most  of  them  clad  in  cap  and  blouse. 
On  the  Boulevard  the  shops  were  still  closed,  but  the 
street  was  lively  and  the  omnibuses  and  cabs  were 
running  as  usual.  Every  few  moments  he  passed 
soldiers  of  the  National  Guard,  but  nobody  looked 
at  him  and  he  began  to  feel  at  ease.  He  met  scores 
of  men  dressed  as  he  was,  and  he  was  sure  that  if 
anything  had  been  amiss  in  his  costume  they  would 
have  noticed  it.  Except  for  a  barricade  here  and 
there,  it  was  difficult  to  believe  that  Paris  was  in  a 
state  of  insurrection.  The  life  in  the  city  had  not 
changed ;  people  were  taking  down  their  wooden 
shutters,  the  cr£meries  were  open  and  filled  with 
customers,  and  market  \vagons  passed  in  files  along 
the  shabby  Boulevard  toward  the  square  by  the 
Closerie  des  Lilas.  On  the  Boulevard  Montrouge 
he  stopped  to  buy  a  hot  roll,  and  took  it  into  a  cre"- 
merie  where  he  ate  it  with  a  pat  of  fresh  butter  and 
a  bowl  of  chocolate.  Two  soldiers  of  Franchetti's 
Scouts  sat  in  the  corner,  jabbering  noisily  over  their 
cafe-au-lait.  He  listened  to  their  conversation  while 
he  sipped  his  hot  chocolate. 

The  discussion  centred  on  a  debauch  in  which 
they  had  participated  the  evening  before,  and  after 
a  while  their  language  became  so  disgusting  that 
Philip  hurried  with  his  chocolate  and  rose  to  pay 
the  reckoning.  As  he  laid  the  six  sous  on  the 
counter  and  turned  toward  the  door,  a  sentence 
uttered  by  the  elder  of  the  two  scouts  arrested 
him. 

"  Nom  de  Dieu  !  if  Raoul  Rigault  wants  the  man 


246  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


he  '11  get  him ;  never  fear,  Sureau,  he  '11  get  him  ! 
Tiens !  I  should  very  much  like  to  run  across 
either  of  them.  I  could  pay  you  your  ten  francs 
then, — I  'd  have  money  to  toss  out  of  the  window, 
eh  !  Sureau  ?  " 

"  Tu  m'ennuis,"  replied  the  other,  sulkily  ;  "  if  I  'm 
not  going  to  get  my  ten  francs  before  you  catch  this 
merle-blanc — what  's  his  name " 

"  Philip  Landes  is  one, — Ellice  is  the  other,"  said 
the  elder  soldier.  "  Alive  or  dead,  it  's  the  same 
reward.  I  'd  fix  them.  Think,  Sureau  !  Imagine 
poor  old  Pastoret  coming  in  with  two, — both  birds 
together, — one  in  each  hand  nicely  spit  through 
with  my  bayonet  !  " 

"  And  my  ten  francs !  Get  out  with  your  white 
blackbirds  !  Look  here — I  'm  in  earnest — Pastoret, 
I  want  you  to  pay  me  that  ten  francs." 

"  I  'm  going  to  pay — there  !  " 

"  No  cheat." 

"  No  cheat— I  tell  you  !  " 

"  Swear!  " 

"  Tu  te  fiche  de  moi,  espece  de  cretin." 

The  dispute  recommenced  with  reference  to  the 
orgie  of  the  previous  night,  and  Philip  waited  to 
hear  no  more  but  hurried  out  into  the  street. 

To  his  own  astonishment  the  discussion  of  the 
reward  for  himself,  dead  or  alive,  neither  shocked 
nor  scared  him.  On  the  contrary,  a  pleasant  shiver 
of  exhilaration  passed  through  him,  his  face  tingled 
with  excitement,  and  he  stepped  along  with  every 
sense  alert.  He  felt  perfect  confidence  in  his  simple 
disguise,  he  looked  forward  to  a  satisfactory  termi- 


A    DANGEROUS  QUEST.  247 


nation  of  his  mission,  and  he  walked  with  an  air 
which  was  almost  gay. 

The  Luxembourg  Gardens  were  turned  into  a 
military  camp.  As  he  passed  along  the  gilded 
iron  railing  beyond  the  Ecole  des  Mines,  he  saw 
artillery  parked  on  the  northern  terrace  and  cav 
alrymen  watering  their  horses  at  the  basin  of  the 
big  fountain.  Federal  infantry  were  encamped 
around  the  old  palace,  from  which  floated  the  red 
flag  of  the  Commune.  Sentinels  lounged  before 
each  gate,  chatting  idly  with  citizens  who  came  to 
enquire  for  relatives  among  the  insurgent  battalions, 
and  sallow-faced  officers,  blazing  with  gold  and 
crimson,  paced  listlessly  up  and  down  the  gravel 
walks  by  the  eastern  palace  wing.  In  the  Place  de 
Medici  two  Hussars  of  Death  sat  motionless  upon 
their  bony  horses,  their  long  cloaks  hanging  to  the 
stirrups,  black  crepe  fluttering  on  their  arms.  Like 
foul  night-birds  surprised  by  daylight,  blinking 
maliciously  at  the  passers-by,  these  strange  creatures 
peered  over  the  cloaks  which  shrouded  their  faces, 
watching  with  fierce  bright  eyes  every  movement  of 
the  people. 

The  dome  of  the  Pantheon  was  glowing  in  the 
sky,  as  he  passed  the  rue  Gay  Lussac,  and  above  it 
the  red  flag  of  the  Commune  flapped  black  against 
the  rising  sun.  Figures  passed  across  the  terraced 
roof,  silhouetted  against  the  bright  blue  above,  with 
a  sparkle  of  buttons  and  bayonets  as  they  turned. 
On  the  Boulevard  St.  Michel  the  cafes  were  opening, 
and  those  hopeless  creatures,  the  morning  absinthe 
drinkers,  dotted  the  terraces  of  the  cafes  "  Rouge 


248  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


et  Noir,"  and  "  Garibaldi."  A  few  harsh-voiced 
women,  over  whose  pale  faces  the  rouge  was  smeared, 
were  returning  with  their  escorts  from  some  fete 
in  Montparnasse,  and  their  eyes,  encircled  by  violet 
rings,  glittered  with  vice.  Their  escorts  were  stu 
dents,  weary  and  viciously  drunk,  and  they  filled 
the  street  with  coarse  yells  and  shouts  of  defiance. 

"  Vive  la  Commune!  "     shouted  one. 

"  Oh,  non — pas  ca  voyons,"  cried  another ;  "  vive 
Thiers!" 

"  Vive  Theirs  !  "  they  shouted  ironically. 

Then  they  noticed  the  Hussars  of  Death  in  the 
Place  de  Medici,  and  shook  their  fists  at  them  in 
drunken  bravado. 

"  Long  live  Thiers  !  "  they  screamed.  "  Long  live 
the  Republic!"  Down  with  the  Commune!"  A 
mort,  les  Hussards  de  la  Mort !  " 

Slowly  one  of  the  draped  cavaliers  turned  in  his 
saddle  and  pointed  at  the  students.  Drunk  as  they 
were  they  felt  the  menace  of  that  outstretched  arm  ; 
their  yells  and  cat-calls  died  in  their  throats,  and 
one  of  the  women  ran  into  a  cafe"  shrieking  hysteri 
cally.  A  ghastly  silent  laugh  stretched  the  skin  on 
the  hussar's  sunken  face,  his  arm  fell  slowly  to  his 
side,  and  his  head  sank  again  among  the  folds  of 
the  long  cloak.  Only  his  eyes,  restless  and  brilliant, 
glittered  venomously  above  the  mantle. 

Philip  shuddered  in  spite  of  himself  and  a  feeling 
of  insecurity  began  to  trouble  him.  He  was  in  a 
quarter  where  he  was  well  known,  and,  though  he 
pulled  the  visor  of  his  cap  low  over  his  face,  a  nervous 
ness,  almost  a  foreboding  set  his  heart  fluttering 


A    DANGEROUS  QUEST.  249 


under  the  blue  blouse.  Then,  as  he  turned  from 
the  Place  de  Medici  to  cross  the  Boulevard,  he  met 
Faustine  Courtois  face  to  face.  She  knew  him  at 
once,  but  she  passed  on,  very  pale,  and  gave  no  sign 
of  recognition.  The  shock  of  the  meeting  unnerved 
him,  and  he  crept  along  the  sidewalk,  listening  for 
pursuing  footfalls.  Not  that  he  feared  Faustine, 
but  if  she  had  recognized  him  so  easily  he  knew  he 
was  not  safe.  Any  shop-keeper  in  the  Quarter, 
any  student  or  grisette  who  wished  to  betray  him, 
through  cupidity  or  from  what  they  imagined  to  be 
patriotism,  would  reap  an  easy  reward  and  stand 
high  in  the  favor  of  Raoul  Rigault. 

Before  he  reached  the  rue  des  Ecoles  he  passed 
half  a  dozen  familiar  faces,  but  nobody  noticed 
him  and  fear  began  to  give  place  to  hope.  Still  the 
buoyancy  and  pleasant  thrill  of  adventure  had  left 
him  ;  he  cursed  himself  for  a  fool  in  not  making  a 
wide  circuit  behind  the  Pantheon  and  avoiding  the 
Boulevard  as  he  would  the  plague.  He  could  yet 
escape  passing  through  the  Boulevard  to  the  Palais 
de  Justice,  and  although  he  was  not  known  in  that 
section  he  was  prudent  enough  to  turn  into  the  rue 
des  Ecoles,  enter  the  rue  des  Carmes,  and  pick  his 
way  through  the  labyrinth  of  narrow  crooked  streets 
which  lie  between  the  Boulevard  St.  Germain  and 
the  river.  The  bridges  which  cross  the  left  arm  of 
the  Seine  to  the  Isle  St.  Louis  were  guarded  by 
troops,  so  he  turned  to  the  left  and  walked  along 
the  quays  until  he  came  to  the  Pont  Neuf.  There 
people  and  vehicles  were  passing  freely,  and  he 
mixed  with  the  crowd  and  crossed  unmolested. 


25O  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


The  problem  now  was,  how  to  get  back  to  the 
Boulevard  St.  Michel,  or  rather  to  that  section  of 
it  known  as  the  Boulevard  Sebastopol  where  the 
little  Hotel  Boule  d'Or  was  located.  Barricades 
closed  the  quays  along  the  right  bank  of  the  Seine, 
but  the  Place  du  Carrousel  was  open  and  he  decided 
to  make  the  circuit  by  way  of  the  rue  de  Rivoli. 
He  crossed  the  court  of  the  Louvre  and  entered 
the  street.  It  was  useless  ;  barricades  cut  him  off 
on  every  side.  For  hours  he  wandered  through  the 
city,  always  attempting  to  find  a  path  through  the 
jumble  of  streets  and  alleys  to  the  Boulevard  Sebas 
topol.  In  vain,  and  at  last  he  had  to  own  it  to  him 
self  as  he  stood,  wearied  and  discouraged  in  an 
archway,  wondering  what  he  should  do  next. 

Across  the  street  a  sentinel  was  standing  before 
a  gray  stone  building  which  he  recognized  as  the 
residence  of  the  Archbishop  of  Paris.  He  had 
often  seen  the  gentle,  kindly  old  man,  and  he  won 
dered  what  the  sentinel  was  doing  there.  The  senti 
nel  was  doing  nothing  as  far  as  Landes  could  see, 
for  people  passed  freely  in  and  out  of  the  court-yard, 
and  carriages  drove  through  the  porte  cochere.  A 
sudden  thought  struck  him.  Suppose  he  could  get 
speech  with  the  Archbishop,  and  suppose  the  Arch 
bishop  should  find  means  of  sending  a  message  to 
the  American  Minister !  Without  waiting  a  mo 
ment  he  crossed  the  street,  passed  the  sentinel  who 
paid  no  attention  to  him,  and  entered  the  court-yard 
of  the  Archeveche.  As  he  stood  looking  for  the 
right  doorway,  a  servant  approached  and  asked  him 
what  he  wanted. 


A    DANGEROUS   QUEST.  2$l 

"  I  wish  to  see  Monseigneur  Darboy,"  said  Philip, 
boldly. 

"  Monseigneur  Darboy  is  at  the  Madeleine  with 
the  cure  of  the  Madeleine,"  replied  the  servant. 

"  When  will  he  return  ?  "  demanded  Philip. 

A  priest  was  passing  and  the  servant  approached 
him  with  a  low  bow.  "  Monsieur  l'abb£,  this  young 
man  wishes  to  see  the  Archbishop,"  he  said. 

The  abbe  Lagarde,  vicar-general  to  the  Arch 
bishop  of  Paris,  turned  pleasantly  to  Philip. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  see  the  Archbishop,  my  son  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  father." 

"  He  will  return  by  one  o'clock  ;  come  then,"  said 
the  abbe,  with  a  sad  smile,  and  turning  to  the  ser 
vant,  "  see  that  this  young  man  is  admitted,"  he 
added.  Philip  thanked  him  and  took  his  leave. 

When  he  stood  again  in  the  street  and  looked  at 
his  watch,  he  found  that  it  was  twelve  o'clock.  There 
was  an  hour  to  wait,  and  he  wondered  how  he  could 
best  use  it.  For  an  instant  he  thought  of  attempt 
ing  to  reach  the  American  Minister  himself,  but  re 
membered  Wilton's  warning  and  Joseph's  experience. 
Then  another  impulse  seized  him.  He  would  have 
time  to  go  to  the  Hotel  Ferret  in  the  Place  Pigalle 
before  the  Archbishop  returned. 

"  Who  knows,"  he  muttered — I  may  be  able  to  find 
some  clue.  Anyway  I  will  go  and  reconnoitre." 

It  took  him  longer  than  he  had  thought  it  would 
to  reach  the  Place,  for  barricades  were  numerous  and 
the  detours  long,  but  at  last  he  entered  the  square, 
found  it  quiet  and  entirely  deserted,  and  crossed  the 
street  to  the  Hotel  Ferret.  The  hotel  appeared  to 


252  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


be  empty,  the  door  was  locked,  but  the  blinds  were 
up  and  the  glass  in  the  window  beside  the  door, 
which  he  had  smashed  with  the  butt  of  his  revolver 
two  weeks  before,  had  not  been  replaced. 

Without  hesitating  a  moment  he  climbed  through 
the  shattered  window  and  sprang  noiselessly  up  the 
stairs  to  the  de  Brassac  apartment.  The  door  was 
open  and  he  entered,  his  revolver  in  his  hand,  every 
sense  keen  and  alert.  Almost  at  once  he  saw  that 
the  apartment  had  been  thoroughly  ransacked. 
Cabinets  swung  wide  open,  doors  in  the  armoires 
hung  shattered  from  the  hinges,  beds  were  disman 
tled  and  pulled  to  pieces,  carpets  and  rugs  lay  heaped 
in  the  corners,  and  bureau  drawers  lay  scattered  on 
the  bare  floor. 

He  passed  through  the  suite  of  rooms,  treading 
gently,  searching  every  corner  for  a  lurking  enemy, 
until  he  came  to  Colonel  de  Brassac's  dressing-room. 
On  the  wall,  above  a  shattered  dressing-table,  hung 
a  rusty  old  pistol.  He  seized  it,  felt  in  the  barrel, 
touched  a  wad  of  something,  worked  at  it  until  it 
slipped  out,  and  a  stream  of  splendid  diamonds 
poured  into  his  hand.  He  was  so  overcome  with 
excitement  that  for  a  moment  he  could  neither  move 
nor  breathe  nor  even  think.  Gradually  his  mind 
cleared,  but  still  he  stood  there  motionless,  ponder 
ing  how  and  where  he  should  place  Jeanne  de  Bras- 
sac's  little  fortune  in  safety.  Deep  tenderness  and 
exulting  pride  made  his  heart  beat  thickly  as  he  real 
ized  that  he  had  been  able  to  serve  so  well  the  woman 
he  loved  ;  and,  as  he  tasted  the  full  sweetness  of  this 
thought,  all  at  once,  somewhere  in  the  house,  a  door 


A    DANGEROUS   QUEST.  253 


opened  and  light  footsteps  sounded  on  the  bare  floor. 
He  thrust  the  diamonds  into  his  pocket.  The  steps 
ceased,  a  face  flashed  in  a  mirror  above  his  head,  and 
down  the  long  corridor  which  the  glass  reflected  he 
saw  Georgias  standing,  his  eyes  starting  from  their 
sockets,  his  jaw  hanging  loosely  between  the  flabby 
folds  of  his  chin.  The  Greek  saw  him  as  he  saw 
Georgias,  through  the  mirror.  In  an  instant  he  had 
bounded  to  the  door,  and  at  the  same  moment 
Georgias  fired  and  fled.  With  the  crash  of  the 
splintering  mirror  behind  him,  Philip  sprang 
through  the  corridor,  firing  as  he  ran,  but  Geor 
gias  turned  into  the  hallway  and  sped  down  the  stairs 
toward  the  lower  floor.  As  Philip  jumped  to  the 
landing  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Greek  on  the  stairs 
below.  Coolly  and  deliberately  he  raised  his  arm, 
knowing  he  had  the  man  at  his  mercy,  and  without 
the  slightest  compunction  fired  the  last  two  cartridges 
in  his  revolver.  Both  shots  struck  Georgias,  who 
screamed  shrilly  and  plunged  head-first  down  the 
stairway  to  the  tiled  vestibule.  He  was  quite  dead 
when  Philip  reached  him.  He  lay  on  the  stone  floor, 
a  hideous  heap  in  a  widening  pool  of  blood,  his  sin 
gle-barrelled  pistol  clutched  in  one  hand,  a  long  thin 
knife  lying  beside  the  other.  Philip  stooped  and 
picked  up  the  knife,  then  flung  it  from  him  with  a 
shudder,  for  he  knew  it  was  the  same  that  he  had 
seen  in  the  Cafe  Cardinal, — the  same  that  had  been 
sheathed  in  the  throat  of  Colonel  de  Brassac. 

The  blood  crept  in  long  bright  streams  toward  his 
shoes,  and  he  drew  back.  Very  calmly  he  opened 
his  revolver  ;  the  empty  shells  flew  out  and  fell  ring- 


254  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


ing  to  the  stone  floor ;  then  he  carefully  reloaded 
every  chamber,  snapped  the  cylinder  into  place,  and 
thrust  the  weapon  into  the  leather  holster  which  was 
strapped  around  his  waist  under  the  blue  blouse. 
Without  another  glance  at  the  dead  murderer,  he 
climbed  through  the  broken  window  and  dropped  to 
the  sidewalk. 

The  square  was  still  deserted.  If  there  were  yet 
any  inhabitants  among  the  silent  houses  opposite, 
they  had  either  not  heard  the  shots,  or  they  pru 
dently  refrained  from  investigation. 

He  reached  the  rue  Blanche  without  difficulty, 
entered  an  alley,  and  threaded  his  way  toward  the 
Archeveche.  He  had  been  away  nearly  two  hours, 
and  he  hastened  his  steps,  fearing  that  the  Arch 
bishop  might  have  returned  and  gone  away  again. 
As  he  came  in  sight  of  the  Archeveche,  he  saw  a 
carriage  drive  through  the  porte  cochere,  a  priest 
step  out  and  then  assist  an  old  man  to  alight.  Philip 
entered  the  court-yard  and  found  the  same  servant 
who  had  given  him  information  two  hours  earlier. 

"The  Archbishop  has  just  returned,"  Landes 
said,  "I  saw  him  leave  his  carriage  and  come  in  on 
the  arm  of  a  priest.  Will  you  ask  him  if  he  can 
spare  me  an  instant  on  a  matter  of  life  and  death?" 

"The  Archbishop  is  tired,"  said  the  servant; 
"  Monseigneur  is  old  and  not  at  all  in  good  health. 
I  am  not  to  admit  anybody." 

"  This  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death,"  repeated 
Philip,  slowly.  "  And  you  remember  that  M.  1'  Abbe 
gave  orders  that  I  should  be  admitted." 

The  servant  hesitated  a  moment  but  finally  went 


A    DANGEROUS   QUEST.  2$$ 


away,  and  returned  presently  saying  Philip  was  to 
follow  him. 

They  passed  through  long  hallways  and  rich 
apartments,  the  servant  leading,  until  they  came  to 
a  closed  door  where  a  priest  stood  reading.  He 
looked  up  as  Philip  approached,  dismissed  the  ser 
vant  with  a  silent  nod,  and  then  turned  his  keen 
eyes  on  the  young  man. 

"The  Archbishop  is  tired  and  ill  but  he  will  not 
refuse  you,"  said  the  priest.  "  Follow  me." 

They  entered  a  small  room  to  the  left,  passed 
through  a  doorway  hidden  by  a  curtain,  and  came 
into  a  large  sunny  chamber  where  an  old  man  was 
lying  on  a  lounge.  His  mild  face,  pale  under  the 
fringe  of  snow-white  hair,  was  drawn  as  if  in  pain, 
but  he  smiled  as  Philip  entered,  and  silently  acknowl 
edged  the  young  man's  deep  obeisance.  When  he 
spoke  his  voice  was  sad  and  weak,  but  there  was 
kindly  sympathy  in  every  line  of  his  pallid  face. 

"  Can  I  help  you,  my  son  ?  " 

"  If  you  will,  Monseigneur." 

"  If  it  be  God's  will,"  murmured  Monseigneur 
Darboy.  "  Tell  me  your  trouble,  my  son." 

Before  Philip  could  reply  a  priest  hurried  into 
the  room  and  threw  himself  on  his  knees  before 
the  Archbishop.  He  was  laboring  under  terrible 
excitement,  and  the  Archbishop  raised  himself  on 
one  arm  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  priest's  head.  At 
the  same  instant  the  street  outside  was  filled  with 
the  crash  of  drums ;  the  noise  of  an  assembling 
crowd  grew  louder  and  louder,  the  shuffling  of  many 
feet  sounded  along  the  sidewalk,  and  there  was  the 


256  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


clang  of  arms  in  the  court-yard.  So  suddenly  had 
this  occurred  that  Philip  had  barely  time  to  spring 
to  a  window  before  the  door  burst  open  and  an 
officer  of  the  National  Guard  strode  into  the  room 
and  walked  coolly  toward  the  Archbishop. 

After  a  moment  of  silence  he  had  the  decency  to 
remove  his  gold-laced  cap  and  bow  to  the  Arch 
bishop,  who  returned  his  salute  with  quiet  dignity. 
Another  officer  entered  and  saluted  mechanically. 
He  wore  the  uniform  of  a  staff  captain  and  carried 
a  folded  paper  in  his  gloved  hand. 

"Is  this  Monseigneur  Darboy?"  he  demanded. 

The  Archbishop  bowed  silently.  The  officer 
turned  to  his  companion,  who  wore  the  costume  of 
the  companies  de  marche. 

"  Captain  Journeaux,  take  charge  of  the  Arche- 
veche." 

The  officer  addressed  saluted  and  withdrew  with 
out  a  glance  at  the  Archbishop  who  had  now  risen 
to  his  feet.  Then  the  staff  captain  turned  insolently 
to  the  Archbishop  and  said  in  a  quick,  jerky  manner: 
"  I  am  Captain  Revol  of  the  staff  and  I  bring  an  order 
for  your  arrest."  With  a  brusque  gesture  he  unfolded 
the  paper  in  his  hands,  and  read  in  a  nasal  sing-song 
voice,  glancing  sharply  every  moment  at  the  two 
priests  who  stood  beside  the  Archbishop : 

"  Order  is  given  to  Citizen  Revol,  Captain  Adjutant  attached  to 
the  Prefecture  of  Police,  to  enter  the  Archeveche  and  arrest  the  Sieur 
Darboy  who  calls  himself  Archbishop  of  Paris,  and  to  there  seize  all 
papers  of  which  a  minute  examination  will  be  made. 

"  RAOUL  RIGAULT." 

"  An  order  of  arrest,"  repeated  Monseigneur 
Darboy,  incredulously. 


A   DANGEROUS  QUEST.  257 


"  Exactly,"  replied  the  officer,  folding  up  the  paper 
and  pocketing  it. 

"It  is  impossible,  this  outrage!"  cried  a  priest. 
He  was  sternly  silenced  by  Revol. 

It  was  the  fourth  of  April,  Holy  Tuesday,  and 
the  Episcopal  Council  had  been  in  session  at  the 
Archevech£  as  usual,  but  had  broken  up  at  two 
o'clock  and  many  of  the  prelates  had  gone.  How 
ever  a  large  number  remained,  among  them  the 
Vicar-General,  the  Abb£  Lagarde,  who  had  gone  to 
bed  with  a  sick  headache. 

Hearing  the  drums  and  the  noise  of  the  crowd 
he  had  risen  and  dressed  and  now  entered  the  room 
where  the  Archbishop  stood  facing  the  Captain. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  demanded  the  officer.  The 
Vicar-General  took  no  notice  of  his  question  but 
passed  quietly  to  the  Archbishop's  side. 

"  Why  am  I  arrested  ?  "  asked  Monseigneur  Dar- 
boy,  looking  at  the  Captain. 

"Because,"  replied  Revol,  coolly,  "  last  night  a 
body  of  Federal  troops  were  fired  upon  in  the  rue 
des  Postes  from  the  house  windows.  Monsieur  the 
Prefet  of  Police  desires  to  question  Monsigneur 
about  it,  as  it  is  believed  that  the  shots  came  from  the 
windows  of  a  religious  society  connected  with  the 
Archeveche.  Of  course,"  he  added,  "there  is  nc 
doubt  but  that  Monseigneur  will  be  allowed  to 
return  at  once  to  the  Archeveche." 

The  Archbishop  repeated  this  strange  story  to  the 
Abbe  Lagarde  who  had  left  the  room  to  bring  a 
warm  shawl  for  the  old  man,  and  they  consulted 
earnestly  for  a  moment  in  low  tones. 


258  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Yes,"  Philip  heard  the  Abbe  say,  "  it  is  certainly 
an  invention.  They  have  come  purely  and  simply 
to  arrest  you." 

"And  you  consent  to  accompany  me?"  asked 
the  Archbishop. 

"  I  do  not  consent — I  ask  the  privilege,"  replied 
the  Abbe  Lagarde. 

"Allons!     En  route!"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Will  you  not  permit  me  to  say  adieu  to  my 
unhappy  sister?"  asked  the  Archbishop,  mildly. 

"There  is  no  time  for  that  sort  of  stuff,"  sneered 
the  Captain,  motioning  a  file  of  soldiers  to  enter. 

"  Shame  !  "  cried  Philip  from  the  window,  and  the 
next  moment  could  have  bitten  off  his  tongue — for 
the  Captain  walked  over  and  examined  him  with 
sinister  coolness. 

"  Who  the  devil  are  you  ?  An  unfrocked  priest  ?  " 
he  demanded.  With  an  insulting  gesture  he  laid 
his  hand  on  the  blue  blouse — and  started  back 
hastily  ;  he  had  felt  the  revolver  underneath. 

"  Arrest  that  man !  "  he  cried  to  the  soldiers.  In 
stantly  Philip  was  surrounded  by  bayonets  and 
marched  out  between  a  double  line  of  troops. 

The  Archbishop  had  profited  by  the  diversion  to 
bid  his  sister  farewell.  He  now  re-entered,  accom 
panied  by  the  Abbe  Lagarde,  and  followed  the 
Captain  down  to  where  his  carriage  was  standing. 
Citizen  Revol  jumped  up  beside  the  coachman,  and 
his  comrade  Journeaux  placed  himself  at  the  head  of 
the  Federal  battalion  which  was  standing  at  attention 
in  the  court.  As  the  drums  rolled  another  file  of 
soldiers  appeared  conducting  Philip. 


A   DANGEROUS  QUEST.  259 


"  Put  him  in  with  Darboy  !  "  cried  ReVol  from 
the  box — and  Philip  was  hustled  into  the  carriage, 
the  door  was  slammed,  and  the  cortege  started. 
As  they  drove  out  of  the  porte  cochere  they  passed 
a  group  of  women  gathered  at  the  entrance.  Some 
were  kneeling  on  the  sidewalk — all  were  weeping. 
One,  a  girl  elegantly  dressed,  held  up  her  hands 
imploringly.  Philip  recognized  Ynes  Falaise.  Mon- 
seigneur  Darboy 's  pale  face  bent  benignly.  He 
raised  his  hands  in  benediction,  Captain  Revol 
sneered  and  cursed  the  driver  ;  the  carriage  rolled 
swiftly  away  toward  the  Place  Dauphine. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

RAOUL   RIGAULT. 

IT  was  a  long  drive  to  the  Prefecture  of  Police, 
and  Monseigneur  Darboy  looked  terribly  ill 
and  worn.  Nevertheless  he  had  nothing  but 
words  of  encouragement  for  his  companions,  and 
before  long  he  remembered  that  Philip  had  some 
thing  urgent  to  communicate. 

"  My  son,"  he  said,  "  you  wished  to  speak  with 
me  on  a  matter  of  life  and  death."  Philip  at  once 
told  his  story.  Monseigneur  Darboy  listened  as 
attentively  as  if  he  were  safe  and  at  ease  in  his  own 
residence,  only  when  Philip  had  finished  he  sighed 
heavily  and  said  in  a  weak  patient  voice : 

"  Alas !  my  son,  you  see  how  little  I  can  do  for 
my  friends  at  present.  And  perhaps — but  the  event 
is  in  God's  hands— if  I  can  help  you  I  will.  Believe 
that.  And  in  case  things  should  go  very  wrong 
with  me — they  may  detain  me,  you  know,  in  spite  of 
their  promise  to  the  contrary,  but  I  do  not  think 
they  will, — if  then  it  should  happen  that  I  am  pre 
vented  from  doing  what  you  wish,  here  is  the  Abb6 
Lagarde.  He  at  least  can  be  in  no  danger.  As 
soon  as  he  returns  from  the  Prefecture  of  Police, 
perhaps  to-day,  let  us  hope  to-morrow  at  the  latest, 
he  will  go  himself  and  lay  your  case  and  that  of  the 

260 


RAOUL  RIGAULT.  261 


ladies  whom  you  are  so  nobly  protecting,  before 
the  American  Minister." 

Landes,  touched  to  the  depths  of  his  troubled  heart 
by  the  Archbishop's  dignity  and  unselfish  sweetness, 
knelt  and  humbly  asked  his  blessing.  The  touch 
of  those  gentle  old  hands  on  his  head  brought  him 
a  sense  of  peace,  but  Monseigneur  Darboy  was 
overcome  by  weakness  and  the  excitement  of  his 
arrest,  his  face  grew  deathly  white,  he  sank  back  on 
the  Abbe's  shoulder  and  closed  his  eyes ;  his  thin 
hands  trembled.  The  younger  men  watched  him 
anxiously  in  silence  for  some  time,  then  Philip  spoke 
again,  in  a  low  voice,  to  the  Abbe  Lagarde. 

"  I  shall  probably  be  shot  before  the  American 
Minister  can  interfere,  even  if  you  should  return 
to  see  him  this  evening.  I  have  Mademoiselle  de 
Brassac's  diamonds  in  my  pocket.  They  are  about 
all  the  fortune  she  has.  Will  you  take  charge  of 
them,  my  father?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Abbe. 

Philip  made  a  little  bag  of  the  gardener's  bandanna,' 
dropped  the  diamonds  in,  and  tied  the  corners  as 
best  he  could.  It  was  so  large  that  when  crumpled 
together  it  made  a  good  hiding-place  for  the  beauti 
ful  stones,  whose  presence  in  its  folds  it  was  hard  to 
detect.  The  Abbe's  sad  face  relaxed  an  instant  with 
a  faint  smile  at  the  incongruity,  as  he  placed  the 
clumsy  cotton  kerchief  in  the  bosom  of  his  soutane. 

"  Have  you  any  message  for  Mademoiselle  de 
Brassac,  my  son  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Tell  her  that  I  love  her,"  said  Philip,  earnestly. 

The  Abbe  bowed  in  silence. 


262  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


At  that  moment  the  coupe"  stopped  in  the  Place 
Dauphine  and  Revol  sprang  from  his  place  beside 
the  coachman  and  opened  the  carriage  door.  The 
Abbe  Lagarde  stepped  out  and  assisted  the  Arch 
bishop  to  descend,  then  Philip  crept  out  of  the 
coup6  and  stood  quietly  before  the  Captain. 

Now  the  Citizen  Captain  R6vol  had  no  idea  that 
Philip  was  a  prize.  He  did  not  know  his  name  and 
did  not  care  to  know  it,  but  he  did  know  that  he 
carried  concealed  arms  and  was  found  hobnobbing 
with  priests,  and  that  was  enough  to  make  him  doubly 
a  "  suspect."  Still,  in  ReVol's  eyes  Philip  was  of 
small  importance  compared  with  Monseigneur  Dar- 
boy  the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  so  when  Philip  stepped 
before  him  he  was  curtly  told  to  follow  in  the  rear. 

The  gate  on  the  side  of  the  Place  Dauphine  was 
closed,  but  Revol  ordered  it  to  be  opened,  and, 
followed  by  the  three  prisoners  and  two  armed  guards, 
he  entered  the  court.  The  court  was  crowded  with 
men  who  vociferated  and  gesticulated  and  filled  the 
yard  with  an  indescribable  tumult.  They  watched 
the  Archbishop  with  hostile  or  indifferent  eyes  until 
a  jailer  appeared  and  ReVol  handed  over  the  pris 
oners  to  him. 

The  jailer,  a  weak-eyed  little  ruffian  with  a  long 
scar  across  his  cheeks,  grinned  impudently  at  the 
two  priests  and  motioned  them  to  follow  him. 
Through  corridor  after  corridor  and  salon  after 
salon  where  repairs  were  in  progress,  they  passed  in 
single  file,  the  jailer  leading.  Then  they  entered  a 
long  suite  of  rooms  which  were  filled  with  men, 
smoking,  drinking,  and  disputing  in  loud  harsh  voices, 


RAOUL  RIGAULT.  263 


but  who  paid  them  not  the  slightest  attention.  The 
room  beyond  was  empty,  except  for  heaps  of  new 
military  clothing  which  lay  in  carefully  arranged 
piles  on  some  long  tables.  The  jailer  paused  in  this 
room  and  motioned  Philip  to  stop. 

"  Your  turn  will  come,"  he  grinned,  "  but  the 
Church  must  not  be  kept  waiting."  Then,  bowing 
ironically  to  the  Archbishop,  he  opened  the  door 
and  ushered  him  into  the  room  beyond.  As  he  did 
not  close  the  door  behind  him,  Philip,  leaning 
against  a  table  piled  high  with  uniforms  of  the  Na 
tional  Guard,  could  see  into  the  room.  The  jailer 
returned  and  winked  as  he  passed. 

"  They  will  send  for  you  in  a  moment.  Climb  up 
on  that  table  and  you  will  see  the  fun  !  "  he  said,  and 
disappeared,  slamming  the  door  behind  him. 

Philip  clambered  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  tables 
and  looked  through  the  half-closed  door  into  the 
cabinet  of  the  Prefet  of  Police. 

At  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  almost  opposite 
the  door  by  which  the  Archbishop  and  the  Abbe 
Lagarde  had  entered,  stood  a  huge  arm-chair  on  a 
raised  step.  In  the  middle  of  this  chair,  before  a 
large  table  covered  with  green  cloth,  sat  a  small  man 
writing.  On  his  head  he  wore  a  military  cap,  heavy 
with  gold  bands,  but  his  uniform  was  sombre  and 
edged  with  silver.  His  cold  shallow  eyes  were  raised 
once  or  twice,  but  he  took  no  notice  of  the  Arch 
bishop,  who  had  entered  with  his  hat  under  his  arm 
and  now  stood  before  the  green-covered  table.  All 
around  the  room  lounged  the  creatures  of  the  Preset 
of  Police,  some  sitting  on  the  long  benches,  others 


264  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


standing  and  conversing  in  low  tones.  Most  of  them 
wore  some  sort  of  uniform,  and  all  affected  broad 
crimson  sashes  edged  with  gilt. 

Suddenly  Raoul  Rigault  raised  his  head,  adjusted 
the  glasses  on  his  nose,  and  with  a  violent  gesture 
demanded  brutally  who  those  people  were. 

"The  Archbishop,"  cried  somebody  from  the 
other  side  of  the  room. 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Rigault,  "  are  you  the  Citizen  Dar- 
boy  ?  C'est  bien  !  It  is  our  turn  now  !  " 

The  Archbishop  advanced  a  step  or  two.  "  May 
I  know  why  I  am  arrested  ?"  he  asked  mildly. 

Rigault  threw  himself  back  in  his  arm-chair,  and 
waved  his  hand  :  "  For  eighteen  hundred  years  you 
priests  have  brutalized  us  with  your  superstitions. 
It  is  time  for  that  to  stop.  Your  Chouans  massacred 
our  brothers.  All  right, — everybody  has  his  turn. 
This  time  it  is  we  who  have  the  power.  We  will 
use  it.  Oh,  we  won't  burn  you  a  la  Torquemada, — 
we  are  too  humane.  But  we  will  shoot  you  !  " 

The  Archbishop  raised  his  shocked  face  to  the  in 
flamed  face  of  Raoul  Rigault.  Then  he  looked  sor 
rowfully  at  the  others,  who  had  risen  from  their  seats 
and  now  crowded  around  the  two  priests. 

"  But  listen,  my  children," — he  began  gently. 

These  words  raised  a  tempest  of  howls  and  jeers. 
From  every  corner  cries,  groans,  hisses,  impossible 
to  describe,  filled  the  air.  The  old  man  shrank  back 
and  raised  his  hand  to  his  forehead. 

"  What !  "  shouted  Rigault,  thumping  the  table 
with  his  clenched  fist ;  "  you  are  smiling,  citizen  !  I 
repeat  that  you  will  be  shot,  and  in  two  days  we  will 


RAOUL  RIGAULT.  26$ 


see  whether  you  will  smile."  Then  he  turned  on  the 
Abbe  Lagarde.  "  You  there, — who  are  you  ?  " 

"  Vicar-General  of  the  Archbishop  of  Paris  whom 
I  have  the  honor  to  accompany,"  replied  the  Abb6 ; 
but  Rigault,  who  probably  imagined  some  affectation 
in  this  response,  shouted  furiously: 

"  Here,  you  !- — don't  put  on  any  of  your  priestly 
airs  with  me.  You  're  known  as  a  suspect." 

"  Monsieur  the  Abbe  is  truly  enough  my  Vicar- 
General,"  interrupted  the  Archbishop,  "  but  there 
was  no  mandate  of  arrest  against  him,  and  he  is  at 
this  moment  beside  me  because  he  consented,  at  my 
request,  to  accompany  me.  I  beg  you  to  allow  him 
to  depart." 

"  Ah  !  ah  !  ah  !  "  cried  Rigault,  with  savage  irony, 
"  the  citizen  is  caged,  let  him  remain  caged  !  Your 
name?  " 

"  Ernest — Joseph — Jean — Lagarde." 

"  Good.  Aliens  !  Quick,  an  order  of  imprison 
ment  for  Citizen  Lagarde, — and  pack  both  of  them 
off  to  their  cells  at  once, — separated  of  course — 
never  leave  two  priests  together !  Captain,  take 
them  in  charge  !  " 

The  captain  to  whom  he  spoke  was  grey-haired 
and  elderly.  He  had  a  pleasant  face  and  simple 
bearing  and  did  not  appear  to  share  the  fury  of  the 
others.  While  Ferre  countersigned  the  order  for 
imprisonment,  the  captain,  raising  his  hand  slowly 
to  his  white  moustache,  stepped  forward  and  said  in  a 
quiet  voice:  "  Citizen  Rigault,  I  am  an  old  soldier: 
I  refuse  to  accept  such  a  mission." 

At  his  words  a  sort  of  stupor  seemed  to  fall  upon 


266  THE    RED  REPUBLIC. 


the  company,  but  Rigault,  fearing  probably  that  the 
ominous  silence  might  end  in  a  more  favorable  feel 
ing  toward  the  prisoners,  turned  to  a  lieutenant  who 
stood  swaying  on  his  spurred  heels  near  the  door. 
The  lieutenant  was  very  drunk, — so  drunk  that  after 
raising  his  hand  to  his  cap  and  hic-coughing,  "  Avec 
— plaisir,  mon  Commandant,"  he  neither  was  able  to 
direct  the  eight  soldiers  who  formed  the  guard,  nor 
find  the  door  without  assistance. 

In  the  meantime,  Philip  stood  on  the  table  in  the 
next  room  watching  with  fast  beating  heart  the  cruel 
scene  passing  in  the  cabinet  of  Raoul  Rigault.  He 
was  alone  and  unguarded,  but  behind  him  lay  the 
long  stretch  of  apartments  filled  with  troops  and 
secret  agents,  and  in  the  room  in  front,  he  knew  only 
too  well,  a  short  shrift  awaited  him.  When  Rigault 
turned  furiously  on  the  Abb6  Lagarde  his  heart  sank 
and  he  crept  down  from  the  table  and  leaned  against 
the  pile  of  clothing.  Was  there  no  hope?  He  stared 
wildly  about  for  a 'window.  There  was  one,  but  it 
had  been  closed  with  iron  bars.  Then  his  eyes  fell 
on  the  piles  of  uniforms  arranged  neatly  on  the  tables. 
Hardly  knowing  what  he  was  about  he  seized  a 
pair  of  trousers  and  pulled  them  oxrer  his  linen 
ones.  They  buttoned  without  difficulty.  In  a  mo 
ment  he  had  caught  up  a  tunic  of  the  National 
Guard,  flung  it  over  his  shirt,  and  tucked  the  long 
skirts  of  the  blouse  into  his  trousers.  He  buttoned 
the  tunic  to  his  throat,  clasped  a  belt  about  his 
waist,  and  found  a  kepi  which  fitted.  Through  the 
open  door  of  Rigault's  cabinet  he  heard  the  order 
given  for  the  removal  of  the  prisoners,  and  the  tread 


RAOUL  RIGAULT.  26; 


of  the  platoon  advancing.  In  desperation  he  flung 
open  the  door  of  the  room  opposite  and  walked 
boldly  through  the  crowded  hallway  which  reeked 
with  the  smoke  and  stench  of  stale  tobacco. 

"  Where  are  you  going  in  such  a  hurry,  citizen?  " 
cried  a  man. 

"  They  are  bringing  the  Archbishop  to  prison  !  " 
replied  Philip  ;  and  the  people  in  the  room  rose  and 
crowded  forward  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Monseigneur 
Darboy. 

Philip  kept  straight  on  until  he  reached  the  court 
yard  now  packed  to  suffocation  with  a  sullen,  vicious 
crowd. 

"  Where  is  the  Citizen  Darboy  ?  "  they  cried  when 
he  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  They  are  taking  him  to  prison  !  "  shouted  Philip, 
"  make  way  there  ! "  The  throng  parted  and  he 
squeezed  his  way  to  the  gate.  It  was  locked.  For 
an  instant  he  stood  in  despair,  but  he  heard  the 
measured  tread  of  the  platoon,  and  then  a  wild 
shout  from  the  crowd,  as  they  came  in  sight.  There 
was  no  time  to  be  lost.  He  sprang  onto  the  cross 
bars  of  the  iron  gate,  climbed  to  the  top,  and  dropped 
to  the  street  uninjured.  Every  eye  was  fixed  on  the 
Archbishop,  who  now  appeared  supported  by  the 
Abbe  Lagarde ;  no  one  saw  Philip  except  the  little 
weak-eyed  jailer — and  his  yells  were  lost  in  the  roar 
of  the  mob.  So  when  the  jailer  reached  the  gate 
and,  flinging  it  open,  rushed  into  the  street,  Philip 
had  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  A  WAKENING. 

JACK  ELLICE  awoke  with  a  sense  of  being  more 
comfortable  than  he  had  been  for  a  long  time. 
He  turned  over  and  looked  out  into  the  studio  ; 
the  window  was  open,  the  sunshine  and  the  black 
bird's  song  came  in  together. 

"  Philip,"  said  Jack,  "  what  time  do  you  have 
breakfast  ?  "  Not  receiving  any  answer  he  sat  up 
and  looked  at  Philip's  bed.  As  it  was  empty  and 
tumbled,  Ellice  concluded  the  hour  must  be  rather 
late,  and  he  stood  up  and  stretched.  Then  his  eye 
fell  on  the  note  which  lay  folded  beside  his  bed,  and 
he  picked  it  up.  By  the  time  he  had  read  it  he  was 
very  wide  awake.  A  clatter  of  dishes  came  from 
the  studio. 

"  Joseph,"  called  Ellice,  "  where  is  Monsieur 
Landes?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Monsieur  Ellice,  is  n't  he  with 
you  ?  " 

"  He  's  gone  !  That 's  certain  !  "  said  Jack  to  him 
self.  He  turned  irresolutely  back,  took  a  spiritless 
plunge  in  the  bathtub,  dressed  hastily,  and  walked 
into  the  studio.  The  clock  pointed  to  half-past 
eight ;  Philip  had  already  been  gone  two  hours  and 
a  half. 

268 


THE   A  WAKENING.  269 


Joseph,  who  had  returned  with  the  milk  and  cream 
jugs,  eyed  Jack  with  doleful  persistence  until  he 
responded  with  an  equally  doleful  nod.  "  Yes,  he 
has  gone  away  to  seek  help  for  us  all." 

"  Je  m'cn  doutais,"  snivelled  Joseph;  "ah!  Mon 
sieur  Philip  is  so  brave — mais — voyons,  Monsieur 
Ellice,  nous  etions  tres  bien  ici !  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  we  were  doing  well  enough  as  we 
were,  and  I  wish  he  had  not  run  the  risk  just  at 
present."  He  took  the  letter  from  his  pocket  and 
translated  it  to  Joseph,  who  was  now  weeping  among 
the  cups  and  saucers. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Joseph,"  demanded  Ellice, 
as  the  concierge  drew  his  hand  across  his  eyes,  "was 
there  any  chance  of  the  Turcos  seeing  him  from  the 
rue  Notre  Dame  when  he  dropped  into  the  Passage 
Stanislas  ?  " 

Joseph  did  not  know  and  of  course  feared  the 
worst,  and  his  melancholy  became  so  oppressive  that 
Ellice  sent  him  out  and  sat  down,  turning  the  letter 
over  helplessly  in  his  hand.  Tcherka  walked  up,  rub 
bing  against  his  legs,  demanding  her  breakfast  in  loud 
tones,  and  Toodles,  his  nose  all  caked  with  soil, 
came  pattering  in  with  an  unpleasant-looking  bone 
in  his  mouth,  which  he  had  buried  some  days  before 
in  the  garden  and  had  now  resurrected.  In  a  few 
moments  the  door  above  opened  and  the  chatter 
and  silvery  laughter  of  girls  filled  the  studio. 

"  Good-morning,  Monsieur  Ellice,"  said  Jeanne, 
coming  to  the  edge  of  the  balcony  and  looking  down, 
"  I  trust  you  slept  well, — oh,  please  do  take  that 
bone  away  from  Toodles !  He  will  drag  the  most 


2/O  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


awful  things  into  the  studio.  Oh,  thank  you  very 
much  !  Bad  Toodles  !  No,  there  's  no  use  wagging 
your  tail,  for  your  mistress  loves  Tcherka,  not  you 
at  all !  " 

"And  that  is  what  we  do  not  believe,  do  we, 
Toodles?"  said  Marguerite,  coming  out  on  the  bal 
cony.  "  Good-morning,  Monsieur  Ellice, — is  Mon 
sieur  Landes  still  asleep?" 

"Very  well,  then,  we  will  put  all  the  cream  in 
Monsieur  Ellice's  coffee!"  cried  Jeanne,  leaning 
over  the  balcony  and  speaking  to  the  closed  door 
of  Philip's  room. 

"  Monsieur  Ellice,"  laughed  Marguerite,  "you  look 
very  sad.  Are  you  hungry,  and  have  we  kept  you 
waiting?" 

"  Listen  to  Tcherka,"  said  Jeanne,  "  listen  to  the 
poor  darling !  She  wants  her  breakfast  and  she  shall 
have  it,"  and  catching  Marguerite's  hand  in  hers  she 
ran  down  the  stairs  to  the  studio.  "  Joseph  !  the  milk 
if  you  pi —  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  stopped 

short  and  looked  Jack  scarchingly  in  the  face. 

"  Monsieur  Ellice,  what  is  the  matter?  " 

"  Don't  be  alarmed — "  he  began  awkwardly. 

"  Something  has  happened  to  Monsieur  Landes?" 

"  No,  oh  no— 

"  Where  is  he  then  ?  " 

"You  see — "  began  Jack. 

"  Please  tell  me  at  once.     Has  he  been  taken?" 

"No — no — not  at  all,"  stammered  Ellice — "only 
— but  perhaps  you  had  better  read  this — "  and  he 
gave  her  the  letter,  feeling  that  if  it  was  not  the  best 
way  of  breaking  the  news  to  her  it  was  at  least  none 


THE   AWAKENING.  2/1 


of  his  choosing.  Jeanne  and  Marguerite  read  it 
together. 

"  You  see,  he  's  only  gone  to  look  for  help.  He 
wore  my  market  gardener's  disguise — and,  as  he 
says,  if  it  served  me  it  will  him.  Oh,  he  '11  come 
back  all  right,"  said  Jack,  with  a  jauntiness  that 
did  not  deceive  anyone. 

"  I  am  the  most  miserable  girl  in  the  world.  I 
make  people  who  are  better  than  I  risk  their  lives  for 
me,"  said  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac,  turning  away. 

"Mais  non  ! — mais  non,  ma  cherie  !  "  said  Mar 
guerite,  tenderly,  "  it  will  not  be  long  before  he 
returns." 

"We  must  wait,"  answered  Jeanne,  in  a  dull  voice. 

She  took  the  head  of  the  breakfast  table  and  saw 
that  the  others  were  served,  and  when  the  formality 
had  been  gone  through  she  sat  in  her  place  looking 
out  into  the  garden.  At  last  Marguerite,  frightened 
by  her  deathlike  color,  rose  and  carried  her  with 
gentle  decision  up  to  her  own  room. 

"  We  are  two  unhappy  women,  dear,"  she  said, 
holding  Jeanne's  head  against  her  breast.  The  girl 
sat  on  her  bed,  leaning  on  Marguerite. 

"  You,  too  ?  "  murmured  Jeanne. 

"  I  am  more  miserable  that  you  can  be.  First 
because  it  is  my  own  fault,  and  then — ah  !  my  little 
Jeanne,  you  are  only  a  child.  You  think  you  know 
what  it  is  to  love,  but  you  do  not  know  yet." 

"Why  is  it  your  fault  that  you  suffer?" 

"  Because  I  threw  away  love  when  it  was  mine." 

"  How  did  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  Listen !     My  name  is  not  de  St.  Brieuc.     That 


2/2  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


was  my  uncle's  name,  and  when  Tribert  called 
me  by  it,  I  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  correct  him. 
I  am  married  and  I  lost  my  husband  through  my 
own  folly.  We  quarrelled  one  day  and  I  would  not 
be  reconciled.  The  next  thing  I  knew  he  had  gone 
to  the  war." 

"  Have  you  never  seen  him  since?"  said  Jeanne, 
full  of  sympathy. 

"  Once — we — met.    He  treated  me  like  a  stranger." 

"  But  if  you  love  him  why  did  you  not  tell  him 
so?" 

"Ah,  little  Jeanne,  because  of  shame  and  pride. 
He  does  not  care  for  me,  and  I  love  him." 

After  a  long  silence  Jeanne  spoke.  "  If  Philip 
should  die,  as  Victor  did,  as  my  father,  my  mother 
have  done — I  should  not  want  to  live  any  longer. 
If  that  is  love  or  not — at  least  it  is  all  I  know.  Life 
is  too  sad  it  seems  to  me — 

"  Love  is  all  there  is  in  life  worth  having.  Take  it, 
Jeanne,  when  it  is  offered  and  keep  it  when  it  is 
yours." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A   NEW  RECRUIT. 

THE  news  of  the  arrest  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Paris  and  of  his  Vicar-General  spread  like 
wildfire  through  the  city.  The  Faubourgs 
rejoiced,  the  Madeleine  Quarter  trembled,  the  Latin 
Quarter  offered  no  protest,  but  cowered  in  dismay, 
listening  for  the  tread  of  the  platoon  and  the  terrible 
summons  :  "  In  the  name  of  the  Commune  !  " 

At  the  Hotel  de  Ville  the  news  was  received  with 
yells  of  delight. 

"  The  old  wolf  is  trapped, — now  for  the  cubs  !  " 
cried  Bergeret,  and  on  the  strength  of  this  he  added 
another  band  of  gold  to  his  glittering  sleeves. 

Billioray  sneered  openly.  "  What  a  fuss  they  make 
about  one  priest ;  if  they  would  shoot  more  and 
talk  less  there  would  n't  be  a  priest  in  the  depart 
ment." 

"  Then  there  would  be  nobody  left  to  shoot,"  ob 
jected  Ferr£. 

"  We  can  always  shoot  each  other,"  remarked 
Rochefort,  cynically. 

"  What  do  you  think  Thiers  will  do  ? "  asked 
Colonel  Rossel,  who  did  not  join  in  the  general 
rejoicing. 

"  What  he  has    always  done    so    energetically, — 

18 

273 


2/4  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


nothing !  "  replied  Assi  ;  then  turning  to  Bergeret, 
who  sat  examining  himself  in  a  small  hand-mirror, 
he  cried :  "  Yes,  there  is  one  thing  Thiers  will  do  if 
we  let  him.  He  will  talk.  His  chatter  wearies  me. 
I  '11  stop  it  once  for  all !  " 

"How?"  demanded  Bergeret. 

Without  replying  Assi  sat  down  and  wrote  rap 
idly.  Then  he  affixed  the  seals  to  the  order  and 
handed  it  to  Bergeret.  It  read  as  follows : 

"  Hotel  de  Ville,  4th  April,  1871. 
"  Formal   orders  are  given    to   cut   instantly  the 
telegraph  wires  between  Paris  and  Versailles. 
(Signed)      "  Assi, 

"  Governor  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville, 
"  Member  of  the  Commune." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Bergeret,  with  a  smirk  ;  "  now 
let  me  try  my  hand,"  and  he  seized  an  order  blank 
and  wrote  : 

"General  Headquarters,  4th  April,  1871. 
"  MON  COM  MANDAlfT  :  Until  further  orders,  the 
Commune  has  decided  that  all  trains  shall  be  pre 
vented  from  leaving  Paris  for  Versailles.  Enclosed 
please  find  an  order  for  the  Chef  de  Gare  of  the 
Ouest-Ceinture. 

"  Le  General  Commandant  la  Place. 
(Signed)  "  JULES  BERGERET." 

Assi  looked  over  his  shoulder,  nodding  approval. 
Bergeret  found  another  sheet  of  paper  and  con 
tinued  : 


A    NEW  RECRUIT.  2?$ 


"  Order  of  the  Central  Committee. 
"  Stop  all  trains  coming  toward  Paris  at  the  Ouest- 
Ceinture.  Place  there  an  energetic  man  with  troops, 
day  and  night.  At  the  arrival  of  each  train,  unless 
the  engineer  stops  at  the  signal,  the  orders  require 
that  the  train  be  derailed  !  " 

"  Come  here  and  sign  this,  Tribert,"  cried  Ber- 
geret  to  an  officer  in  the  uniform  of  a  Chef  de 
Legion. 

The  man  approached  and,  after  writing  "  For  the 
Committee,"  signed  his  name,  "  Tribert,  Command 
ing  the  Legion." 

"  That  will  fix  them,"  chuckled  Assi,  rubbing  his 
huge  hands  together  and  eying  the  barbarous  or 
der.  It  tickled  him  to  think  of  the  carnage  which 
the  derailing  of  a  train  would  produce.  The  crush 
ing  and  mangling  of  innocent  passengers  would  be 
a  spectacle  worth  seeing. 

"  It  will  be  very  droll,"  he  explained  to  Tribert ; 
"  imagine  all  those  bourgeoises  dumped  out  like  snails 
in  a  pan  !  "  Tribert  also  saw  the  exquisite  humor 
of  the  thing  and  departed  grinning,  with  his  hands 
full  of  orders,  which  he  consigned  to  a  Hussar  of 
Death  at  the  gate  below.  The  hussar  dropped  them 
into  his  pouch  and  struck  spurs  into  his  cadaverous 
horse,  and  Bergeret,  watching  him  from  a  window, 
smiled  to  himself  and  dusted  the  gold  bands  on  his 
sleeve. 

As  he  sat  picking  at  the  gorgeous  lace  on  his  pe 
lisse  with  the  naive  delight  of  a  savage,  three  officers 
in  the  full  uniforms  of  Generals  of  the  Commune 


2/6  THE  RED  REPUBLIC, 

entered  the  cabinet  and  sat  down  beside  him  with 
careless  nods  of  recognition.  The  three  were  Eudes, 
Duval,  and  Gustave  Flourens. 

"  Well,  gentlemen  !  "  burst  out  Flourens,  in  his 
eager,  impetuous  manner,  "  the  thing  is  decided  for 
to-morrow  then  ! "  He  turned  to  Duval,  a  small, 
stern-featured  man  who  had  once  been  a  worker  in 
metals,  had  been  made  an  officer  of  the  National 
Guard  during  the  siege,  and,  after  the  affair  of  the 
cannon  on  the  iSth  of  March,  found  himself  sud 
denly  promoted  to  General.  It  savored,  perhaps, 
of  the  "  Grand-Duchesse  de  Gerolstein,"  for  Duval, 
like  Fritz  in  the  opera,  was  promoted  in  five  minutes 
from  a  simple  soldier  to  commander-in-chief.  But, 
of  the  four  Generals  of  the  Commune,  Duval  was 
the  only  one  who  possessed  military  ability,  except 
Flourens,  and  the  latter  ruined  what  ability  he  pos 
sessed  by  his  fiery  and  headstrong  impetuosity. 

Eudes  was  hopelessly  incompetent ;  and  Bergeret, 
an  ape  with  the  vanity  of  a  peacock  and  the  ferocity 
of  a  tiger,  had  no  more  knowledge  of  military  affairs 
than  a  volunteer  colonel  at  Aldershot. 

"  Is  it  finally  decided  then  for  to-morrow?"  re 
peated  Flourens,  eagerly. 

"Yes,"  snapped  Duval,  "  to-morrow  we  move  on 
Versailles,  and  the  troops  will  take  up  their  posi 
tions  to-night,  if  possible.  Bergeret,  you  have  the 
plan  ?  " 

"  Yes,  General — my  own  plan,"  replied  Bergeret, 
with  a  self-conscious  smirk.  He  drew  some  papers 
from  the  breast  of  his  pelisse  and  spread  them  out 
on  his  knees.  Then  with  an  affected  gesture  he 
began  to  read : 


A   NEW  RECRUIT. 

"  The  Federal  army  will  be  divided  into  three 
divisions. 

"  The  first,  commanded  by  General  Bergeret,  will 
make  an  important  demonstration  on  the  Rueil 
road. 

"  The  second,  under  the  orders  of  General  Duval, 
will  advance  through  Bas-Meudon,  Chaville,  and 
Viroflay.  The  Fort  of  Issy  and  the  Redoute  des 
Moulineaux  will  protect  them  with  their  fire. 

"  The  third,  conducted  by  General  Eudes,  will 
operate  along  the  Clamart  road,  traversing  Villa- 
coublay  and  Velizy.  This  corps  will  be  supported 
by  the  Fort  of  Vanves — 

"Where  the  devil  do  I  come  in?"  exclaimed 
Flourens,  angrily. 

"You  go  with  me,"  replied  Bergeret,  and  smiled 
complacently. 

"  Will  there  be  fighting?"  growled  Flourens. 

"  Plenty,  plenty,"  said  Eudes  ;  "  go  on,  General ; 
what  comes  next?  " 

"  Nothing  more,"  said  Bergeret,  folding  the  papers. 
"  Is  n't  that  simple  enough  ?  The  objective  point 
is  Versailles  ;  the  plan,  without  details,  is  this  :  First, 
a  diversion  toward  Mont-Valerien  ;  second,  an  attack 
at  Clamart ;  third,  flank  movement  by  Bas-Meudon. 
Is  n't  this  simple,  General  Duval  ?  " 

"  D — ned  simple,"  muttered  Duval,  between  his 
teeth  ;  "  what  if  Mont-Valerien  fires  on  your  col 
umn?  " 

"It  won't,"  replied  Bergeret,  with  conviction  ;  "  it 's 
held  by  the  marine  artillery,  and  they  are  for  us." 

"  We'll  take  it  if  it  fires,"  began  Flourens,  angrily 
but  was  silenced  bv  a  gesture  from  Duval, 


2/8  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Hark  !  Was  that  a  cannon-shot  ?  " 

They  all  rose  and  crowded  out  to  the  balcony  be 
low  the  window.  Again  there  came  a  deep,  distant 
boom,  and  the  window  panes  vibrated.  The  four 
generals  of  the  Commune  listened  to  the  cannonade 
with  sparkling  eyes.  Paris,  trembling  before  the 
Central  Committee,  listened  also  to  the  sound  of 
the  cannon, —  a  sound  which  for  months  had  shaken 
the  wretched  city  to  its  foundations.  Was  it  to  be 
gin  again  ?  Where  were  they  fighting  ?  It  was  the 
Fort  of  Issy,  some  said,  which  was  firing  on  the 
barricade  at  Meudon. 

Behind  the  barricade  which  closed  the  rue  Notre 
Dame  at  the  corner  of  the  rue  Vavin,  the  soldiers 
of  the  1st  Paris  Turcos  were  lounging  over  their 
steaming  camp-kettles  when  the  echoes  of  the  first 
cannon-shot  from  the  Fort  of  Issy  floated  into  the 
city  on  the  April  breeze. 

Andre  Sarre,  in  the  full  uniform  of  a  colonel  of 
Turcos,  was  squatting  on  the  top  of  the  barricade 
scowling  at  a  letter  which  he  held  in  his  pudgy 
hands.  At  the  sound  of  the  distant  cannon-shot  he 
raised  his  head  and  his  features  resumed  their  nor 
mal  aspect,  which,  at  first  glance,  seemed  a  merry 
one. 

"  Tiens  !  "  he  said,  "  Monsieur  Thiers  is  beginning." 
Then  he  looked  at  the  letter  in  his  hand  and 
scowled  again. 

A  Turco,  strolling  near,  began  to  sing  a  little  song. 

"  On  dira,  quand  il  sera  mort, 
Pour  glorifier  sa  memoire  : 
Ci-git  celui  qui  vient  encore 
De  delivrer  la  territoire  ! " 


A    NEW  RECRUIT.  279 


This  tickled  Sarre,  and  he  called  the  soldier  to 
him. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said,  "where  did  you  learn  that 
touching  song?  " 

"  Mon  Colonel,"  replied  the  Turco,  seriously, 
'"  everybody  is  singing  it." 

"  But  Thiers  is  n't  dead  yet." 

"  He  may  be  before  long,  mon  Colonel." 

"  That  would  be  too  much  happiness,"  said  Sarre; 
"look  out !  your  song  will  bring  us  bad  luck.  Good 
luck  is  like  game,  when  you  sight  it  too  far  off,  you 
miss  it.  Don't  cherish  illusions!  " 

"  Illusions  are  the  daily  bread  of  the  unhappy, 
mon  Colonel." 

Sarre  pretended  to  misunderstand  him.  "  D — n 
it !  "  he  cried,  "  don't  you  get  enough  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Under  the  Commune  we  have  food  and  liberty," 
replied  the  soldier,  with  a  grimace. 

"  Have  you  any  complaint  concerning  the  quality 
of  either  ?  "  asked  Sarre. 

"  The  food  is  good,"  said  the  soldier,  musingly. 

"And  the  liberty?" 

The  soldier  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Liberty  is 
the  tyranny  of  the  street  with  a  Marseillaise  accom 
paniment,"  quoted  the  soldier. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  sneered  Sarre,  "  a  private  sol 
dier  and  such  a  philosopher !  Wonderful!  Wonder 
ful  !  Now,  my  friend,  you  can  go  and  exercise  your 
philosophy  in  splitting  wood  with  the  corvee. 
About  !  March  !  "  The  soldier  saluted  and  turned 
quietly  away  to  follow  the  corv6e  which  was 
passing. 


28O  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  I  '11  fix  you,  my  philosopher !  I  '11  fix  you,  my 
Plato!" 

"  Fix  whom  ?  "  enquired  a  captain,  coming  up  and 
barely  touching  his  cap  in  salute. 

"  See  here,  Weser,"  said  Sarre,  turning  on  him 
with  a  disagreeable  smile,  "  you  're  getting  too 
damned  familiar.  Don't  you  know  how  to  salute  ?  " 

Weser  muttered  an  apology  and  stole  a  glance  at 
his  superior. 

"  I  'm  a  bit  out  of  humor,  Isidor,"  said  Sarre  with 
affected  heartiness, — "  don't  mind  ;  you  salute  well 
enough.  I  Ve  just  got  a  letter  from  Raoul  Rigault. 
He  's  lost  his  head  since  he  turned  Policeman  Gen 
eral.  He  's  too  cursed  overbearing  and  insolent." 

Weser  saw  through  Sarre.  "  Oh,"  he  thought, 
"  Sarre  's  had  a  row  with  Rigault  and  can't  afford  to 
quarrel  with  his  subordinate  officers."  Then  he 
said  with  insolent  familiarity,  "  what  's  the  trouble, 
Andre?" 

Sarre  let  his  eyes  rest  for  one  second  on  Weser's 
oily  face,  but  his  smile  was  very  guileless,  as  he  held 
out  the  letter  with  a  shrug. 

Weser  took  it  and  read  aloud : 

"Order  is  given  to  the  Citizen  Colonel  Sarre,  temporarily  com 
manding  the  First  Battalion  of  Paris  Turcos,  to  turn  over  to  the 
Pre'fet  of  Police  all  moneys,  jewelry,  objects  of  art,  religious  emblems, 
and  vestments,  which  were  taken  from  churches,  convents,  and  other 
buildings  inhabited  or  frequented  by  priests,  Jesuits,  or  nuns,  and 
which  were  visited  by  the  soldiers  of  the  battalion  commanded  by 
Colonel  Sarre.  (Signed)  RAOUL  RIGAULT, 

"Prefet  of  Police." 

Weser  whistled,  folded  up  the  paper,  handed  it 
back  to  Sarre,  and  whistled  again. 


A    NEW  RECRUIT.  28 1 


"  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  "  demanded  Sarre. 
His  features  looked  very  placid,  but  the  end  of  his 
fat  nose  was  white  with  rage,  and  his  teeth  clicked 
together. 

"  Are  you  going  to  do  it  ?"  asked  Weser,  softly. 

Sarre  snorted  furiously.  "If  you  can  afford  to 
give  up  your  share  of  course  I  can." 

'•  But  I  can't,"  said  Weser,  still  more  softly. 

"  Neither  can  I,"  said  Sarre. 

They  looked  at  each  other. 

"Well?" 

"  Well." 

"  We  can  send  a  few  things,"  suggested  Sarre. 

"  Yes— a  few." 

"  Everybody  can  contribute." 

"  Yes  ;  not  too  much." 

"  No,  not  too  much." 

"  If  we  are  questioned  ?  " 

"  We  hang  together." 

"  We  hang  together." 

"  C'est  entendu  ?  " 

"  Tope  la  !  " 

They  shook  hands  warily. 

"  I  '11  see  the  others,"  observed  Sarre  ;  then  burst 
ing  into  uncontrollable  rage;  "  why  can't  he  be  sat 
isfied  with  his  own  pickings  ?  They  're  rich  enough ! 
If  he  chooses  he  can  loot  the  whole  of  the  right 
bank  of  the  Seine  !  " 

"  Including  the  Bank  of  France  !  "  said  Weser, 
with  sparkling  eyes. 

Sarre  grinned  like  a  hyena.  "  We  owe  nothing  to 
Raoul  Rigault, — remember  that !  " 


282  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  I  '11  remember,"  said  Weser,  his  black  eyes  glit 
tering. 

Sarre  scrambled  heavily  down  from  the  top  of  the 
barricade  and  stood  irresolutely,  his  hands  clasped 
behind  his  broad  back. 

"  He  's  thinking  he  's  said  too  much,"  mused 
Weser.  "  He  's  wrong,  the  fat  fox!  I  can't  afford 
to  give  up  my  pile  for  the  sake  of  pushing  him  to  a 
wall.  Then  he  spoke  aloud  :  "  What  was  the  firing? 
Is  Thiers  beginning  the  music  ?  " 

"  Probably,"  said  Sarre,  carelessly. 

"  Then  we  will  go  to  the  front  ?  " 

"  Probably,"  yawned  Sarre. 

Weser,  who  had  no  stomach  for  fighting,  fidgeted 
about  until  the  heavy  report  of  a  cannon  from  the 
nearer  fortifications  aroused  the  whole  garrison  of 
the  barricade.  Weser  turned  a  little  pale  and  stood 
stock-still. 

"  Hey  ! "  exclaimed  Sarre,  laughing,  "  that  sounds 
like  business  !  " 

As  he  spoke,  there  came  a  furious  clatter  of  hoofs 
from  the  rue  Vavin,  and  a  Hussar  of  Death  whirled 
up  the  street  and  threw  his  horse  back  on  his 
haunches  before  the  barricade. 

"  Marching  orders  or  I  'm  a  Prussian  !  "  cried  Sarre, 
taking  a  packet  from  the  hussar  ;  "  yes — we  start  at 
five — it  's  half-past  four  now.  I  'm  d — n  glad  of  it ! 
Weser,  order  them  to  sound  the  assembly  !  Tell 
Captain  Pagot  to  remain  with  the  third  company  as 
garrison.  Where  's  my  ordnance  ?  Tell  the  buglers 
to  sound,  Captain  Weser." 

"  Idiot,"  muttered  Weser,  walking  slowly  toward 


A    NEW  RECRUIT.  283 


the  camp,"  why  could  n't  he  let  me  stay  with  my  com 
pany  ?  Pagot  always  gets  the  plums.  Sarre  's  a  fool, 
— bullets  don't  scare  him,  the  leather-headed  turtle  !  " 

He  moved  aside  to  allow  a  file  of  soldiers  to  pass, 
who,  with  fixed  bayonets,  were  conducting  some 
prisoners  toward  the  barricade  ;  then  he  resumed  his 
course,  cursing  his  luck  and  his  colonel. 

Sarre  was  in  excellent  humor  again.  The  bugles 
were  blowing  from  the  camp,  the  drums  crashed  out 
along  the  rue  Bara,  and  five  hundred  soldiers  tumbled 
over  each  other  in  the  hurry  and  excitement  of  de 
parture.  Sarre  beamed,  delighted,  rubbing  his  fat 
hands  together  and  smoking  an  expensive  cigar. 
The  file  of  soldiers  who  were  conducting  the  prison 
ers  passed  him,  and  he  called  merrily  to  the  corporal 
of  the  guard  to  halt. 

"  What  pretty  fish  have  we  here  ?  "  he  asked,  walk 
ing  up  to  the  little  convoy. 

"  Prisoners,"  replied  the  corporal,  briefly,  and 
saluted  as  an  after-thought. 

"  Ah  !  Ah  !  "  smiled  Sarre,  in  great  good-humor; 
"  what  is  this  woman  here  for?  " 

"  Received  secret  letters  from  Versailles,"  said  the 
corporal. 

"Bah!  That 's  Rigault's  affair, — let  her  go!"  The 
prisoner,  a  thin-faced,  white-haired  woman,  dressed 
in  heavy  mourning,  bowed  her  thanks  silently  and 
hurried  away  through  the  rue  Vavin. 

"  One  on  Rigault,  the  pig-headed  ass !  "  thought 
Sarre,  delighted  at  being  able  to  disoblige  the  Pr£- 
fet.  Then  he  turned  to  the  next  prisoner,  a  young 
man,  who  returned  his  glance  boldly. 


284  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"Alexandra  Ouvrard." 

"  What  have  you  done  ?  " 

The  young  man  looked  at  him  without  answering. 

"  Speak,  you  fool  !  " 

"  He  deserted  from  Franchetti's  Scouts  to  Ver 
sailles,"  said  the  corporal. 

"Oh,  you  did,  did  you?"  sneered  Sarre,  twirling 
his  revolver  over  his  thumb ;  is  n't  the  Commune 
good  enough  for  you  ?  Well,  if  you  're  too  fine  for 
this  world — get  out !  "  and  he  levelled  his  revolver 
and  fired  twice  at  the  deserter's  heart.  "  Take  him 
away,"  said  Sarre,  coolly,  with  a  glance  at  the  quiv 
ering,  blood-spattered  body  which  had  tumbled  un 
der  the  wall  of  the  barricade.  Then  he  replaced  his 
revolver  in  its  holster  and  examined  the  other  pris 
oners.  There  were  two  of  them,  both  soldiers  of 
the  Line,  and  he  smiled  as  he  noted  their  uniform. 

"  How  is  my  friend,  Monsieur  Thiers?  "  he  asked 
them,  with  a  cold  smile. 

"  In  excellent  health, — to  hang  you  when  he  's 
ready,"  replied  one  of  the  soldiers,  contemptuously. 

Sarre  threw  back  his  bullet  head  and  laughed  until 
the  tears  ran  down  his  face.  "  He  is  delightful,  that 
one  there  ! "  he  cried ;  "  only  listen !  Oh  my  !  Oh  my  !  " 

The  prisoner's  face  darkened. 

"  Murderer  !  "  he  said  between  his  teeth.  Sarre 
burst  into  a  fresh  peal  of  laughter. 

"  Oh  dear  !  "  he  gasped  ;  "  this  piou-piou  is  so 
original.  Take  good  care  of  him — very  good  care. 
Give  him  a  nice  large  house  to  live  in — let  me  see — 
I  think  Mazas  would  be  large  enough.  The  other 


A   NEW  JRECRUIT.  285 


one  too — the  little  fellow  who  seems  frightened,— 
give  him  a  nice  apartment  in  Mazas  also.  Don't  let 
them  over-eat  or  over-exercise.  Is  that  all  ?  " 

"  There  is  another  prisoner,"  said  the  corporal, 
with  a  shuddering  glance  at  the  murdered  deserter 
whom  two  men  had  tossed  into  a  stretcher  and  were 
carrying  out  across  the  rue  Vavin. 

"  Bring  him  here,  corporal, — and  you,"  turning  to 
the  guard,  "take  these  friends  of  mine  to  the  Mazas 
Prison  !  " 

The  platoon  moved  out  into  the  rue  Vavin,  and 
the  corporal  went  away  to  bring  up  the  remaining 
prisoner. 

Sarre  picked  up  a  handful  of  hay  and  rubbed  some 
blood  spots  from  the  toes  of  his  boots.  When  the 
corporal  returned  with  the  last  prisoner,  Sarre  was 
still  at  his  toilet,  but  he  raised  his  head  and  exam 
ined  the  man  who  stood  motionless  in  front  of  him. 
Then  he  drew  his  revolver  again  and  cocked  it. 

"You  can  go,"  he  said  to  the  corporal,  who  had 
turned  quite  white.  The  soldier  left  with  a  hasty 
salute  and  Sarre  stood  alone  with  the  prisoner. 

"  Stand  against  that  wall,"  he  said. 

The  young  man  walked  over  to  the  barricade  and 
faced  Sarre.  The  latter  raised  his  revolver ;  the 
prisoner  uttered  an  exclamation  and  shut  his  eyes. 

"  Tiens !  "  said  Sarre,  tranquilly  ;  "  I  thought  I  'd 
make  him  jump."  He  smiled  at  the  prisoner,  who 
still  held  his  eyes  closed  convulsively.  Then  he  low 
ered  the  revolver. 

"  For  God's  sake  shoot  !  "  groaned  the  young  man, 
hoarsely, — "  don't  torture  me,  Sarre  !  " 


286  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Look  up,  my  friend,"  said  Sarre,  "  you  're  not 
dead  yet ! " 

The  prisoner  gasped  and  opened  his  eyes. 

"  You  don't  seem  anxious  to  die,  Monsieur 
Landes,"  sneered  Sarre. 

Philip  stared  at  him,  his  face  ghastly,  his  eyes 
bloodshot  and  dim  with  horror. 

"  Pooh,"  continued  Sarre,  cocking  and  uncocking 
his  revolver,  "  what  is  death  ?  Nothing  to  be  afraid 
of,  mon  ami.  Death  is  but  sleep,  and  sleep  but  an 
entre-act  in  the  comedy  of  life." 

Philip  neither  moved  nor  spoke. 

"  Lost  your  tongue  ?     Frightened  ?  " 

"  You  lie  !  "  said  Philip,  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice. 

"  No  I  don't,"  replied  Sarre,  tranquilly  ;  "  you  are 
frightened  almost  speechless.  Voyons,  admit  it !  " 

Philip  was  silent,  but  his  eyes  grew  clearer  and  a 
flush  tinged  his  temples. 

"And  now,"  continued  Sarre,  "you  are  getting 
over  your  fright  and  are  ready  to  die  like  a  brave 
man,  eh  ?  Oh,  I  can  see,  I  'm  not  a  mole.  What 
do  you  think  I  am  going  to  do  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  will  shoot  me,"  replied  Philip.  His 
voice  was  coming  back  again. 

"  What  's  the  reward  for  you, — dead  or  alive  ?  " 

"  A  thousand  francs." 

"  Is  that  all?" 

No  answer. 

"And,"  continued  Sarre,  "you  think  I'd  kill  a 
man  for  that  ?" 

"  I  'm  d — n  sure  you  would  !  For  God's  sake  fire 
and  finish  it !  "  The  cold  sweat  rolled  down  his  face. 


A   NEW  RECRUIT.  287 


Sarre  deliberately  raised  his  revolver  and  pulled 
the  trigger.  The  hammer  fell  with  a  metallic  clink. 
Again  he  snapped  the  weapon,  and  the  same  sharp 
ring  followed.  With  a  vile  oath  he  threw  open  the 
breech  of  the  revolver  and  jerked  back  the  ejector. 
Two  loaded  cartridges  and  an  empty  shell  flew  out, 
and  he  picked  one  of  them  up  and  glanced  at  the 
primer.  Then  with  a  short  laugh  he  tossed  it  to 
Philip's  feet.  "You  're  in  luck,"  he  chuckled  ;  "  the 
hammer  hit  it  fair  and  square.  I  '11  report  these 
A~3.  cartridges." 

Philip  leaned  against  the  wall.  He  looked  very 
white  and  weak  and  his  eyes  were  two  shadowy 
hollows. 

"You  're  in  luck,  I  tell  you,"  repeated  Sarre,  clos 
ing  his  revolver  and  jamming  it  into  the  holster. 
"Now  I  'm  glad  I  did  n't  kill  you,  do  you  know? 
Why,  it  would  have  been  a  shame.  I  can  get  lots 
of  amusement  out  of  you  yet.  Do  you  think  I  want 
that  reward  ?  No,  my  friend.  Oh,  I  'm  very  glad 
those  cartridges  hung  fire.  I  missed  doing  that  hog 
Rigault  a  favor.  What  a  fool  I  was, — what  a  fool !  " 

He  glanced  over  his  shoulder  toward  the  rue  Bara, 
where,  the  1st  Turcos  were  forming  in  heavy  march 
ing  order.  Then  he  looked  at  Philip  and  grinned. 
"  Did  you  strike,  Raoul  Rigault  ?  Is  it  true  ?  " 

"  It 's  true,"  said  Philip,  with  an  effort.  "  What  a 
fiend  you  are,  Andre  Sarre !  " 

"  Now  you  're  mistaken,  perhaps,"  protested  Sarre, 
leering  at  him.  "  Did  you  strike  him  hard, — hard, — - 
and  in  the  face  ?  " 

Philip  nodded  with  an  apathetic  stare. 


288  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Sarre  chuckled.  "  I  heard  you  did.  What  a 
shame  to  shoot  a  man  like  you.  You  may  kill  him 
some  day, — this  Policeman  General  Rigault,  eh?" 

"  If  I  live,"  said  Philip. 

"And  me  too,  perhaps?"  laughed  Sarre. 

Philip  did  not  answer. 

"  Landes,"  said  Sarre,  abruptly,  "  I  give  you  your 
life." 

Philip's  face  reddened  and  his  chest  heaved,  but 
he  only  said,  "  on  what  condition  ?  ' 

"  Now  bless  my  soul !  "  laughed  Sarre,  "  what  an 
intelligent  young  man !  What  a  shame  to  have 
blown  a  hole  in  him!"  Then  he  added  seriously ; 
"the  conditions  are  that  you  kill  Raoul  Rigault " 

"  I  refuse.     I  'm  no  assassin." 

"  But,"  sneered  Sarre,  "  you  just  said — 

"  What  I  do  I  '11  do  on  my  own  account,"  said 
Philip,  with  a  desperate  gleam  in  his  eyes.  "  I  '11 
make  no  condition  concerning  Rigault." 

Sarre  eyed  him  narrowly.  Then  with  a  shrug; 
"  I  'm  satisfied.  The  other  condition  is  that  you 
join  the  ranks." 

"What  ranks?" 

"  These — the  1st  Turcos." 

"  What  ?     You  know  I  'd  desert !  " 

"  Oh,  I  '11  attend  to  that,"  observed  Sarre  ;  "  do 
you  accept  ?  " 

"And  if  I  do  not?" 

Sarre  called  to  an  officer  and  asked  him  for  his 
revolver.  The  officer  handed  it  to  him  with  a  keen 
glance  at  Philip.  "  What  cartridges  do  you  carry?" 
demanded  Sarre. 


A   NEW  RECRUIT.  289 


"B-3 — new  model,"  replied  the  officer. 

"  How  many  defective  in  a  thousand  rounds?" 

"  None." 

Sarre  turned  with  a  smile  to  Philip.  "Well, 
Monsieur,  will  you  join  the  ist  Turcos?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Landes,  without  hesitation. 

"I  congratulate  you,"  laughed  Sarre;  "here, 
sergeant,  take  this  new  recruit  to  the  depot  and  give 
him  his  uniform  and  equipment.  Assign  him  to  the 
First  company,  Captain  Cartier.  Tell  Captain  Cartier 
I  want  to  see  him.  If  this  conscript  hesitates  in  his 
duty,  shoot  him  without  further  orders,  and  instruct 
the  company  in  that  respect.  Hurry — we  march  in 
ten  minutes !  " 

Weser  came  up  at  that  moment  to  report  his 
company  ready.  He  stared  in  astonishment  at 
Landes,  who  was  following  the  sergeant  across  the 
square,  but  Sarre,  chuckling  and  rubbing  his  hands 
gave  him  a  brief  outline  of  what  had  passed,  and 
Weser  nodded  approval. 

"  You  see,"  said  Sarre,  "  I  '11  keep  him  well 
guarded,  and  when  we  strike  the  Versaillists  I  '11 
shove  him  to  the  front.  If  he  's  shot,  we  have  his 
body,  and  Rigault  must  pay  up.  If  he  's  not  shot, 
we  will  have  all  the  fun  and  then  turn  him  over  to 
our  friend  the  Prefet, — when  we  get  ready  ! " 

"  In  the  meantime  we  can  find  where  he  has  the 
diamonds,"  suggested  Weser,  with  a  cunning  smile. 

"  Izzy,  you  're  a  treasure  !  "  cried  Sarre.  "  What 
a  fool  I  should  have  been  to  shoot  him — so  soon  !  " 

Then  the  drums  rolled  through  the  rue  Notre 
Dame,  the  shrill  fantastic  bugle  notes  echoed  from 


2QO  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


square  to  square,  and  Sarre,  climbing  laboriously 
into  the  saddle  of  a  huge  grey  horse,  drew  his  sword. 
"Forward!"  he  bawled,  and  the  1st  battalion  of 
Paris  Turcos  swung  out  of  the  rue  Notre  Dame. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

WITH  THE  RED  FLAG. 

DAYLIGHT  was  fading  in  the  room  ;  the 
blackbird  whistled  fitfully,  cocking  his 
bright  eye  at  the  setting  sun,  and  swallows 
soared  and  sailed  above  the  chimney  pots.  From 
the  garden  below  came  the  clank  of  Ellice's  spade 
on  the  gravel,  followed  by  retreating  footsteps  ;  then 
the  studio  door  opened  and  shut  and  all  was  quiet. 

A  wandering  evening  breeze  moved  the  curtains 
and  touched  the  curls  on  Jeanne's  white  forehead. 
She  lay  on  the  bed,  her  head  on  Marguerite's  breast, 
her  eyes  fixed  on  the  dim  light  which  faded  and 
faded  from  the  window  panes.  Above  the  chimneys 
opposite,  the  sky  was  still  blue,  but  it  changed, 
gradually,  to  palest  green  and  then  was  hidden  in  a 
mass  of  gold-flecked  clouds.  Little  by  little  the 
clouds  deepened  until  they  glowed  like  dying  coals. 

"  God  keep  my  husband  !"  sobbed  Marguerite. 

"  God  keep  Philip  !  "  whispered  Jeanne. 

Then  from  the  north  came  a  deep  peal  of  thunder. 
Jeanne  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  hand  pressed  to  her 
throat,  her  dry  lips  parted.  Again  the  thunder 
boomed  and  the  rising  night  wind  bore  its  rumbling 
far  into  the  city.  The  window  panes  were  still  shak- 


THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

ing  as  Marguerite  crept  to  the  sill  and  looked  out. 
Far  on  the  horizon  the  coming  night  advanced, 
shrouded  in  pale  mist.  In  the  vaguer  blue  above,  a 
star  sparkled.  And  now  from  the  north  the  sound 
of  the  cannon  grew,  increasing  like  the  thunder  of  an 
ocean  pounding  soft  sand. 

"  Cannon  !  "  whispered  Marguerite. 

"  Cannon  !  "  whispered  Jeanne. 

In  the  street  below  a  stern  voice  cried  and  a 
bugle  clanged.  Louder  and  louder  rattled  the 
drums,  while  the  bugles  chimed  harsh  chorus  and 
the  hum  of  departure  swelled  to  a  roar.  Once  a 
sharp  report  rang  out  through  the  tumult  of  the 
drums,  and  Jeanne  glanced  anxiously  at  Marguerite. 

"  A  shot  !  "  she  said  ;  "  what  can  it  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means  war,  my  darling, — war  and  death  !  "  and 
the  two  women  crept  closer  together. 

"  Hark  !  "  whispered  Marguerite,  "  someone  is 
calling." 

It  was  Ellice,  standing,  pale  and  excited,  in  the 
studio  below,  and  they  hurried  down  the  stairs  to 
meet  him. 

"  Joseph  says  the  Federals  are  marching  out  of 
the  barricade  by  the  rue  Vavin.  If  they  leave  no 
guard  I  think  we  had  better  try  again  for  the  Ameri 
can  Minister's." 

Joseph  entered  hurriedly.  "  It  is  as  I  feared,"  he 
said ;  "  they  leave  a  company  to  garrison  the  barri 
cade."  Ellice  looked  blank.  Jeanne  went  and 
looked  up  in  Joseph's  face.  Her  voice  was  very 
gentle,  but  her  lips  trembled. 

"  What  was  that  shot  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  They  murdered  a  poor  devil " 


WITH  THE  RED  FLAG.  293 


"  Who  was  it — do  you  know  ?  " 

Joseph  understood.  He  said,  looking  down  at 
her  like  a  father:  "  Mademoiselle,  it  was  a  deserter 
named  Ouvrard.  The  sentinel  in  front  of  the  con 
vent  told  me  so." 

Ellice,  who  was  walking  up  and  down,  suddenly 
blurted  out :  "  I  wish  to  Heaven  Philip  would  come 
back  !  It 's  nearly  dark." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  waiting  for  the  night  before  he 
returns,"  said  Marguerite. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  Jeanne,  piteously. 

"  He  said  he  'd  be  back  by  night,"  insisted  Ellice, 
with  querulous  persistence. 

"  It  is  not  night  yet,"  said  Marguerite,  quietly. 

Something  in  her  voice  made  Ellice  stop  and  look 
at  her.  Then  he  went  and  sat  down  by  the  fire. 
"  I  'm  making  a  precious  ass  of  myself,"  he  sighed; 
"  I  must  brace  up!  Of  course,"  he  said  aloud  in  a 
cheery  voice,  "  it 's  not  yet  dark,  and  anyway  he 
may  have  been  detained.  Oh,  he  's  all  right — he  's 
well  disguised,  and  he  is  too  wise  to  run  risks." 

"  I  am  sure  he  is  safe,"  said  Marguerite,  calmly, 
and  gave  Ellice  a  grateful  glance  which  sent  him 
into  his  state  of  trance  for  the  next  ten  minutes. 

Joseph  flitted  in  and  out,  setting  the  table  for 
dinner,  and  Jeanne  watched  with  a  heavy  heart 
while  he  laid  a  place  for  Philip. 

"  They  say,"  said  Joseph,  "  that  the  Archbishop 
of  Paris  has  been  arrested  to-day,  along  with  the 
Abbe  Lagarde,  his  Vicar-General." 

"That  is  certainly  a  lie,"  cried  Ellice,  reassuring 
the  horrified  girls  with  a  smile.  "  Fancy  them  daring 
to  touch  the  Archbishop  '  " 


294  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


"  It 's  what  they  are  saying  at  the  barricade," 
growled  Joseph.  "  I  thought  it  was  a  lie  myself. 
And  they  say,  too,  that  part  of  this  queer  Turco  bat 
talion  have  been  looting  churches  this  morning,  and 
have  arrested  eighty  priests  and  sent  them  to  Mazas." 

"  Pure  invention,"  said  Ellice,  confidently. 

"  It  must  be,"  said  Marguerite,  watching  Jeanne's 
shocked  face. 

"  That  's  all  the  news  I  heard,  except  that  the  Fort 
of  Issy  fired  at  the  Versailles  batteries  near  Meudon, 
and  there  is  going  to  be  a  sortie  to-morrow.  The 
Turcos  are  to  march  with  Bergeret's  column — 

"Was  that  the  bombardment  we  just  heard?" 
asked  Jeanne. 

"  We  could  not  hear  the  Fort  of  Issy,"  said  Ellice, 
with  a  desperate  attempt  to  keep  conversation  go 
ing  ;  "  it  must  have  come  from  the  big  marine  can 
non  by  the  Point  du  Jour." 

Nobody  spoke  for  some  minutes,  and  it  was  a 
relief  to  hear  Joseph  rattle  the  knives  and  forks  as 
he  laid  each  cover  with  elaborate  care. 

The  cannonade  had  ceased,  the  stars  shone 
through  the  glass  roof  of  the  outer  studio,  and 
a  cricket  chirped  from  the  garden.  Through  the 
budding  branches  of  the  chestnut  tree  the  new 
moon  peeped,  a  thin,  misty  crescent. 

Jeanne  raised  her  eyes  and  saw  it.  There  it  glim 
mered,  a  narrow  band  of  light  among  the  branches, 
and  a  sudden  flood  of  childish  memories  filled  her 
with  tenderness  and  love.  Very  innocently  she 
thought :  "  The  new  moon  is  over  my  right  shoul 
der;  I  will  wish  for  Philip's  return."  With  her  eyes 


WITH  THE  A'£D  FLAG. 

on  the  new  moon  she  repeated  her  wish,  unconscious 
of  her  childishness.  She  wondered  if  Philip  was 
looking  at  it,  wherever  he  was,  and  thinking  of  her. 
She  wondered  and  wondered,  and  dreamed  and 
dreamed,  until  a  movement  from  Marguerite  brought 
her  back  to  earth  and  she  remembered.  Then  she 
prayed  for  him  wherever  he  might  be,  and  her  heart 
seemed  bursting  with  its  weight  of  sorrow. 

And  the  man  she  prayed  for,  at  that  same  mo 
ment,  stood  on  a  bastion  of  the  fortifications  and 
prayed  for  her  with  all  the  strength  of  his  love  and 
passion ;  and  as  he  prayed,  he  raised  his  eyes  and 
saw  the  new  moon  shining  in  the  sky. 

"God  help  her!  "  he  muttered,  looking  out  across 
the  shadowy  city,  where  the  twin  towers  of  Notre 
Dame  loomed  gigantic  in  the  twilight.  Then  he 
turned  to  the  north.  Far  on  the  horizon  the  Fort 
of  Issy  thundered,  and  the  brooding  clouds  caught 
the  dull  reflection  of  the  flashes.  From  the  great 
bastion  on  the  fortifications,  the  country,  sheeted  in 
thin  mist,  stretched  away  to  the  uplands  of  Ver 
sailles,  where  thousands  of  little  points  of  light 
twinkled — the  camp  fires  of  the  loyal  army.  Farther 
along,  the  wooded  heights  of  Meudon  sloped  gently 
toward  the  west,  where,  through  a  notch  in  the  hills, 
the  starlight  glimmered  on  the  waters  of  the  Seine. 
As  he  looked,  a  column  of  flame  poured  from  be 
neath  the  arches  of  the  viaduct  by  the  Point  du 
Jour,  and  the  shock  of  an  explosion  shook  the 
granite  redoubt. 

"  That,"  said  somebody  near  him,  "  is  the  cannon 
on  the  gunboat  '  Farcy.'  " 


296  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

He  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  black-hulled  craft  creep- 
ing  from  under  the  viaduct,  but  the  banks  of  the 
Seine  hid  her  again.  Twice,  as  he  strained  his  eyes, 
the  huge  gun  in  her  bow  flashed  in  the  gloom  and 
the  echoes  crashed  among  the  vibrating  arches  of  the 
bridge. 

On  the  heights  of  St.  Cloud  lights  were  moving  in 
sweeps  and  circles,  and  after  a  while  he  realized  that 
they  were  signals,  but  could  not  read  them.  An 
artillery  officer  standing  on  the  breastworks  to  his 
right,  night-glasses  poised,  was  reporting  the  signals 
to  a  gunner,  who  sat  with  a  lantern  on  his  knees, 
jotting  them  down. 

"  Seven,  one  !  "  cried  the  officer,  in  a  monotonous, 
singsong  voice. 

"  Seven,  one  !  "  repeated  the  gunner. 

"  Seven,  sixteen,  seven,  one,  five,  nine,  seventeen, 
one  !  "  cried  the  officer,  and  the  gunner  repeated  the 
numbers,  writing  each  one  as  he  called  it. 

"  Why  don't  they  send  that  signal  officer  up  here, 
— he  might  solve  their  cipher,"  observed  a  lieutenant 
of  Turcos  who  stood,  tablets  in  hand,  looking  over 
the  messages  as  they  were  handed  him  by  the 
gunner. 

"  Seven,  six,  seven,  eleven,  nine — notice  how  often 
the  seven  occurs,  Lieutenant ! — one,  seven,  ten,  one, 
seven.  They  're  using  colored  lights — green,  three  ; 
red,  two  ;  blue,  seven  ;  green,  one ;  blue,  seven — note 
that ! — red,  one  ;  yellow,  six — 

Philip  listened  wearily  to  the  singsong  voice  until 
three  rockets  cleft  the  horizon  from  the  Vanves  fort, 
and  a  cannon  flashed  from  the  Clamart  battery. 


WITH  THE  RED   FLAG.  297 


Then  far  down  the  river  the  huge  gun  on  the 
"  Farcy  "  bellowed,  and  the  fort  of  Issy  replied.  It 
was  the  parting  shot  of  the  night.  One  by  one  the 
signal  lights  faded  from  the  heights,  the  cannonade 
died  away,  and  a  hush  fell  over  land  and  river. 

Philip  stood  looking  at  the  fire  near  him,  where, 
wrapped  in  their  white  cloaks,  his  comrades  sprawled, 
talking  together  in  low  tones.  The  lines  of  camp 
fires  stretched  in  curves  along  the  fortifications,  cast 
ing  strange  shadows  over  angle  and  glacis,  flashing 
on  the  polished  breeches  of  ponderous  siege  guns, 
and  sending  showers  of  sparks  into  the  black  sky. 
The  smoke  blew  in  his  eyes  ;  he  rubbed  them  with 
the  sleeves  of  his  Turco  jacket,  and  the  bell  buttons 
on  the  embroidered  arabesques  jingled.  He  was 
clothed  in  the  full  uniform  of  a  private  in  the  1st 
Turcos.  On  his  head  he  wore  the  scarlet  fez  with 
the  blue  tassel,  his  legs  were  hidden  by  white  canvas 
gaiters,  and  his  body  was  covered  with  a  turquoise- 
blue  jacket  and  zouave  trousers.  A  sabre-bayonet- 
sheath  dangled  from  a  leather  belt,  clasped  over  the 
scarlet  body  scarf,  and  from  this  belt  also  hung  a 
cartridge-box  and  a  rubber  water  bottle  covered  with 
blue  cloth. 

He  glanced  across  the  fire  at  the  sentinel  who 
moved  silently  among  the  pyramids  of  stacked  rifles 
and  knapsacks.  His  o\vn  rifle  was  there;  he  could 
see  it,  locked  among  four  others.  Battle  flags,  furled 
and  sheathed,  lay  across  the  clustered  bayonets,  and 
a  few  feet  beyond,  a  pile  of  drums  glistened  in  the 
firelight.  Beside  these  drums  stood  a  group  of  offi 
cers  enveloped  in  their  long  cloaks.  They  were 


298  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

smoking,  and  conversing  in  whispers,  but  they  all 
seemed  to  be  in  good  humor,  judging  from  the  low 
chuckles  which  now  and  then  escaped.  Philip  recog 
nized  Sarre  and  Weser  and  his  own  captain,  Cartier, 
a  mild-eyed  young  man  who  loved  fighting  with  the 
passion  of  a  bull  terrier.  After  a  while  he  saw  Sarre 
move  away,  followed  by  Weser  and  others  whom  he 
did  not  know.  With  many  good-nights  and  jaunty 
salutes  the  group  broke  up,  Sarre  and  his  familiars 
moving  down  to  the  quarters  near  the  bomb-proof 
below,  Cartier  and  the  other  captains  strolling  across 
the  parade  toward  a  rudely  constructed  shanty  where 
a  lantern  hung,  shedding  its  rays  over  two  tables. 
Soon  the  faint  clink  of  bottles  and  glasses  indicated 
their  occupation,  and  Philip  saw  casks  of  beer  and 
wine  rolled  toward  the  Colonel's  quarters  behind  the 
bomb-proof. 

As  he  stood,  wondering  how  it  all  would  end,  a 
soldier,  wrapped  in  his  white  cloak,  rolled  over  and 
sat  up  on  the  ground  in  front  of  the  camp  fire  next 
to  his,  and  Philip  started  as  he  heard  him  say,  in 
perfectly  good  English :  "  For  G-d's  sake  give  me  a 
chew,  Con  Daily." 

"  Divil  a  wan  have  I,"  answered  a  voice  from  the 
depths  of  a  military  cloak  on  the  other  side  of  the 
fire. 

"  Then  give  me  a  cigarette,"  persisted  the  first 
speaker,  yawning  and  stretching.  "  Wake  up,  man  ; 
you  've  time  to  sleep  after  taps.  And  you  too, '  Red,' 
sit  up,  you  lazy  devil !  "  He  shook  a  soldier  who  was 
lying  before  the  fire,  his  chin  on  his  hands,  and  who 
responded  :  "  Aw,  what  t'  hell !  " 


WITH  THE  RED  FLAG.  299 


"Con  Daily,"  repeated  the  soldier,  "chuck  me  a 
cigarette,  will  you  ?" 

"  Now,  do  I  shmoke  thim  at  all,  at  all !  "  grumbled 
Daily,  without  moving.  "  Ask  Red  McGlone  ;  he 
has  some  plug." 

"  And  Red  McGlone  keeps  his  plug  ;  mind  that, 
Con  Daily  !  "  put  in  a  red-headed  young  man  with 
well  developed  under  jaw  and  a  tired  eye.  He 
added,  apparently  as  an  after-thought :  "  What  t' 
hell !  " 

"What  the  hell,  is  it?"  said  Daily,  sitting  up; 
"  an'  me  lendin'  ye  the  loan  av  me  pipe — 

"  Who  's  got  yer  pipe  ?  "  demanded  McGlone. 

"Me  pipe?  Ye  have  me  pipe,  ye  murtherin' 
divil !  Gimme  me  pipe  now!  " 

"  Charlie,"  drawled  McGlone,  "  have  I  got  his 
pipe  ?  " 

"I'll  have  me  pipe,"  persisted  Daily,  angrily; 
"  Charlie  McBarron,  ye  seen  me  give  it  un  — 

"  Shut  up,  Con,"  said  McBarron  ;  "  I  have  your 
pipe  all  safe  enough,  but  I  have  n't  a  d — d  thing  to 
put  in  it."  McGlone  slowly  produced  a  plug  of  to 
bacco  from  the  mysterious  depths  of  his  zouave 
trousers  and  handed  it  to  McBarron,  who  chipped  off 
enough  for  his  pipe  and  passed  it  back. 

"  I  '11  take  a  chew,  Red,  me  b'y,"  suggested  Daily, 
and  McGlone  tossed  over  the  plug,  from  which  the 
Irishman  gnawed  a  piece  and  tossed  it  back  across 
the  fire.  Red  picked  it  up,  thoughtfully  chewed  off 
a  mouthful,  rolled  it  into  some  cavern  in  his  bull 
dog  jaw,  and  slowly  pushed  the  remainder  into  the 
depths  of  his  trousers. 


300  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  When  that  's  gone  you  '11  have  to  come  to  cigar 
ettes  again,  Con  Daily,"  said  McBarron. 

"  Will  I  now,"  snorted  Daily. 

"  Yer  gettin'  to  look  like  a  frog-eating  Mounseer, 
Daily,"  said  McGlone,  sending  a  thin  stream  of 
tobacco  juice  into  the  fire.  The  hiss  of  the  saliva  in 
the  coals  aroused  another  Turco,  a  Frenchman,  who 
protested. 

"  Aw,  dry  up  'r  I  '11  sma-a-sh  yer  in  the  jaw," 
drawled  McGlone,  with  a  contemptuous  shot  at  the 
fire  again. 

McBarron  calmed  the  frenzied  Frenchman  and 
sternly  told  McGlone  to  be  careful.  "We  want  no 
more  fights  now,"  he  said,  "you  '11  get  your  bellyful 
to-morrow  at  Clamart." 

"  Can't  I  spit  ? — what  t'  hell !  "  demanded  Red. 

"You  hear  me,"  repeated  McBarron.  McGlone 
glared  at  the  Frenchman,  who  glared  at  him. 

"  Assez  nom  de  Dieu  !  "  growled  Daily  ;  "  let  him 
be,  Red  McGlone,  ye  bull-necked  scrapper ;  voyons, 
un  peu  de  complaisance,  mes  camarades  ? — Ne  crache 
pas  comme  un  voyou,  Red,  me  lad,  what  the  divil 
should  ye  worrit  the  frog-eater  fur,  I  dunno  ! " 

"  If  you  do  that  again  I  '11  help  the  Frenchman 
punch  your  head,"  added  McBarron. 

"  What  t'  hell !  "  yawned  McGlone,  "  je  ne  crach 
ploo,  esker  say  bieng  mantinong, — you  monkey-faced 
snail-eating " 

"  Shut  up,  Red, — can't  you  see  he  's  satisfied. 
Don't  spoil  it,  do  you  hear  ?  "  said  McBarron,  angrily. 

The  Frenchman  lay  down  again  and  covered  his 
head  with  his  blanket.  McGlone  ostentatiously  ex- 


WITH  THE   KED   FLAG.  30! 


pectorated  upon  the  ground,  leered  at  the  fire,  and 
observed  :  "  Aw,  the  regiment  makes  me  tired,  see?" 

"  'T  is  a  sthrange  rigimint,  sure,"  mused  Daily. 

"  Bum  !  "  said  McGlone,  sulkily. 

"  The  biggest  lot  of  cutthroats  that  ever  marched," 
said  McBarron,  "  except  Billy  Wilson's  Zouaves — 

"  I  was  there,"  said  Daily,  angrily. 

"So  was  Red  McGlone,"  sneered  McBarron; 
"both  of  you  marched  with  Billy  Wilson,  and  a 
bigger  lot  of  rascals  never  left  New  York  City  !  " 

"  Do  ye  refer  to  me?  "  cried  Daily. 

"  Aw,  dry  up,"  snarled  McGlone,  "  I  'm  goin' 
to  sleep  ;  what  t'  hell !  Yer  a  goat-faced  bum, 
Con  Daily,  and  yer  know  it." 

Daily  looked  around  for  a  brick  ;  seeing  none,  he 
started  to  his  feet,  his  mouth  open,  but  as  he  was  on 
the  point  of  emitting  a  yell  of  defiance,  the  bugles 
sang  out  "  taps,"  and  a  group  of  officers  passed  with 
a  guard  and  lanterns.  Philip  crept  into  the  circle  of 
firelight  and  drew  his  cloak  well  about  him.  Before 
he  could  find  a  place  a  hand  fell  on  his  shoulder  and 
a  sentinel  pointed  to  the  next  camp  fire. 

"  That  is  your  squad,"  he  said  sharply  ;  "  go  !  " 

When  at  last  he  lay,  swathed  in  his  mantle,  before 
the  fire,  he  looked  up  into  the  starry  vault  above 
and  his  heart  sank.  What  was  to  be  the  end  of  all 
this?  Could  it  be  possible  that  he,  Philip  Landes, 
was  a  soldier  of  the  Commune? 

The  bell  buttons  on  his  embroidered  sleeves  tinkled 
with  every  movement  as  he  lay  there  shivering  and 
crushing  his  clenched  fists  over  his  face.  The  fire 
flared  and  crackled  and  the  smoke  blew  in  gusts 


302  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


across  his  head.  He  could  hear  Con  Daily,  at  the 
next  fire,  still  muttering  threats,  while  McBarron 
soothed  him  in  whispers,  and  Red  McGlone  snored. 
When  he  first  heard  the  familiar  sound  of  his  own 
language  he  had  felt  for  a  moment  comforted  and 
anxiously  hopeful,  but  now,  the  ruffians  at  the  next 
fire  seemed  more  distant  and  foreign  to  him  than 
the  worst  ragamuffin  in  the  battalion.  The  whole 
thing  resembled  an  awful  nightmare, — his  escape 
from  the  claws  of  Raoul  Rigault,  his  arrest  in  the 
Passage  Stanislas  just  as  he  had  started  to  climb  the 
wall,  his  frightful  experience  with  Sarre,  and  his 
hasty  march  through  the  black  city  where  insurgent 
thousands  lined  the  streets,  howling  and  cheering 
for  anarchy  and  the  Commune. 

The  death  of  Georgias,  murderer  and  robber 
though  he  was,  also  affected  him  strangely.  Even 
when  he  had  stood  with  eyes  closed  before  Sarre's 
revolver,  trying  to  pray,  trying  to  think  of  Jeanne, 
a  vision  of  Georgias  flashed  before  him,  lying  as  he 
had  seen  him,  a  tumbled  heap  of  clothes  in  a  widen 
ing  pool  of  blood.  In  his  ears  rang  a  voice  :  "  Ven 
geance  is  mine  !  "  and  he  clasped  his  trembling  fingers 
over  his  ears  and  cowered  under  the  blanket,  while  the 
terrible  voice  repeated  :  "  I  will  repay !  I  will  repay !  " 

When  at  length  he  fell  into  a  troubled  slumber, 
the  voice  ceased  and  only  a  distant  tumult  came  to  his 
ears.  He  dreamed  fitfully — now  of  the  garden  where 
the  fountain  rippled  under  the  lilacs,  now  of  the  white 
face  of  the  old  Archbishop,  now  of  rivers  and  rivers  of 
splendid  diamonds  which  caught  him  up — carried  him 
away,  away  to  a  sparkling  sea.  Then  he  dreamed 


WITH  THE  RED  FLAG.  303 


that  the  blackbird  was  singing  in  the  almond  tree, 
and  he  saw  Jeanne  come  out  on  the  doorstep,  hold 
ing  Tcherka  in  her  arms.  He  strove  to  speak,  but 
could  not.  How  loud  the  blackbird  was  singing, — 
how  strong,  how  piercing!  He  started  up.  The 
bugles  were  clanging  a  frenzied  summons,  the  stars 
sparkled  in  the  depths  of  a  fathomless  black  zenith, 
and  from  the  reviving  embers  of  the  camp  fires  came 
the  stench  of  simmering  soup.  All  about  him  sleepy 
soldiers  stumbled  to  their  feet,  and  stumped  away 
in  the  darkness  where  a  dark  line  was  forming,  and 
figures  passed  to  and  fro  with  scores  of  swinging 
lanterns. 

"  Come  !  "  cried  somebody  beside  him,  and  he  rose 
and  hobbled  after  the  others.  Sarre,  in  a  fiendish 
temper,  passed  him,  followed  by  his  staff,  and  far 
into  the  darkness  of  the  early  morning  Philip  heard 
him  cursing  his  Maker.  When  the  roll  was  called 
he  answered  to  his  name,  and  followed  the  corvee  to 
where  a  bundle  of  axes  lay  in  the  shelter  of  an  em 
bankment.  The  wood  was  oak  and  beech,  but  the 
exercise  did  him  good,  and  after  the  smoke-begrimed 
pots  were  lifted  from  the  fires,  he  drank  his  soup 
with  the  rest. 

It  was  not  yet  daylight  when  the  battalion  swung 
through  the  gate  of  the  fortifications  and  marched 
out  into  the  open  country.  The  air  was  cold  and 
fresh  and  sweet,  but  there  was  no  wind  across  the 
shadowy  plain  where  the  shredded  mist  still  lingered 
in  filmy  streamers. 

Philip  marched  in  the  first  company.  Just  ahead 
of  him  the  drummers  and  buglers  plodded  along  in 


304  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


silence.  Ahead  of  them  he  could  see  the  vague 
forms  of  mounted  men  and  hear  the  sharp  stroke  of 
steel-shod  hoofs  where  Sarre  and  his  staff,  who  had 
ridden  on,  were  picking  their  way  along  the  crowded 
military  road.  They  halted  frequently  and  other 
regiments  passed  them.  Sometimes  it  was  a  battery 
of  cannon,  creaking  and  bumping,  the  horses  strain 
ing  under  the  heavy  harness,  the  gunners  clinging  to 
the  iron  railings  on  the  caissons  ;  sometimes  a  turbu 
lent  battalion  of  National  Guard  infantry ;  some 
times  a  column  of  Garibaldians,  red-shirted,  bearded, 
and  swarthy.  Once  a  ghostly  troop  of  horse  rode 
by  with  muffled  hoof-beats,  the  gaunt  riders  shrouded 
in  their  long  mantles,  knots  of  crepe  drooping  on 
their  shoulders.  Even  the  ruffianly  Turcos  shrank 
back  as  the  grim  troop  trampled  past,  for  the  Hussars 
of  Death  seemed  to  taint  the  morning  air  with  the 
odor  of  death  and  decay. 

Morning  was  breaking  and  still  the  troops  poured 
along  the  military  road  toward  the  wooded  heights 
beyond,  which  now  loomed  up  black  and  mysterious 
against  the  paling  horizon. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  the  bat 
talion  entered  the  Rond-Point  of  Courbevoie,  evacu 
ated  a  few  hours  before  by  the  Versailles  troops. 
Philip  saw  that  the  village  was  occupied  by  masses 
of  Federal  infantry  and  artillery.  As  he  stood  at 
ease,  leaning  upon  his  rifle,  he  heard  McBarron  say 
in  English  to  one  of  his  companions,  that  the  artil 
lery  was  "  rotten."  It  certainly  did  look  forlorn, 
although  there  were  guns  enough  for  an  army  twice 
their  strength.  The  cannon  were  of  all  sizes,  shapes, 


WITH  THE  RED  FLAG.  305 


and  calibres,  and  were  drawn  by  horses  hastily  seized 
from  omnibuses  and  cabs.  Behind  the  cannon,  long 
files  of  wagons,  furniture  vans,  bakers'  carts,  and  in 
fact  types  of  every  vehicle  to  be  found  in  Paris, 
stretched  away  toward  the  route  de  Rueil.  These 
were  filled  with  provisions  and  arms.  An  omnibus 
bearing  the  sign  "  Batignolles-Clichy-Odeon  "  rum 
bled  past  loaded  down  with  cases  of  cartridges  and 
casks  of  powder. 

"  Correspondence,  si'l  vous  plait !  "  cried  an  irre 
pressible  Turco,  "  I  am  going  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville 
to  see  my  mother-in-law."  This  put  the  battalion 
into  good  humor. 

"  Is  there  a  place  outside  for  a  poor  orphan  ? " 
shouted  a  soldier. 

"  No,"  bellowed  a  National  Guard,  "  Monsieur 
Thiers  has  reserved  the  Imperial !  "  The  officers 
passed  along  the  front  laughing,  and  the  troops 
began  to  sing  : 

"  Petit  bonhomme  vit  encore, 
Mais  !     Mais  !     Ma-a-is  ! " 

Philip  watched  the  "  marine  "  artillerymen  labor 
ing  with  their  huge  pieces  which  they  had  started 
with  two  days  before  and  only  now  were  placing  in 
battery.  Suddenly  a  cheering  broke  out  across  the 
river  where  the  right  wing  of  the  army  rested,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  an  uncovered  carriage,  drawn  by 
two  horses,  traversed  the  Avenue  de  Neuilly. 

"  Bergeret  !  "  cried  Sarre  ;  "  Attention  !  Present 
arms  !  " 

It  was  Bergeret.     Glittering  like  an  aurora  borealis 


306  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


in  his  gaudy  uniform,  he  lounged  back  in  his  carriage 
smoking  a  cigarette,  insolently  returning  the  salutes 
of  the  regimental  commanders.  His  carriage,  pre 
ceded  by  a  Turco  who  acted  as  ordonnance,  and 
followed  by  a  gorgeous  staff,  pulled  up  in  the  centre 
of  the  square.  Bergeret  rose  in  his  carriage,  turned 
dramatically  toward  Versailles,  and  lifted  his  hand. 
It  was  the  signal.  The  drums  beat,  the  bugles 
sounded,  and  an  immense  clamor  arose  :  "  A  Ver 
sailles  !  a  Versailles  !  " 

Bergeret  in  his  carriage,  surrounded  by  twelve 
cannon,  led  the  column  ;  behind  crowded  three 
battalions  of  the  National  Guard,  the  24th,  the  I28th, 
and  the  i88th,  cheering  madly.  Then  came  the 
1st  Battalion  of  Paris  Turcos,  Colonel  Sarre,  march 
ing  well  and  singing  at  the  top  of  their  voices : 

"  Voici  le  sabre  ! 
le  sabre  ! 
le  sabre  ! " 

which  was  so  appropriate  that  a  staff-officer  came 
from  Bergeret  with  a  request  that  the  Turcos  change 
their  song.  Unconscious  of  the  irony,  the  Turcos 
refused,  and  General  Bergeret  swore  under  his 
breath  that  he  would  "  purge"  the  battalion  on  their 
return.  Behind  the  Turcos  came  six  more  battal 
ions,  yelling  for  instant  slaughter. 

"  Their  lungs  are  all  right,"  sneered  Red  McGlone 
to  Con  Daily,  who  replied,  "  an'  I  'm  thinkin'  their 
appetites  is  better  !  " 

"  Wait  until  we  get  out  of  the  village,"  said 
McBarron,  with  an  ominous  smile. 

"  Phwat  's  there  ?  "  demanded  Daily. 


WITH  THE  If  ED  FLAG.  307 


"  Look ! " 

As  he  spoke  the  battalion  wheeled  into  the  open 
country,  and  at  the  same  moment  Sarre  threw  up 
his  hand  and  the  captains  repeated  the  order :  "  Halt  1 
halt !  halt !  "  The  three  battalions  in  front  had  also 
stopped,  and  every  head  was  turned  toward  a  great 
grey  hill  which  loomed  up  in  the  morning  light,  silent 
and  weird  as  a  gigantic  tomb. 

It  was  Mont-Valerien. 

An  involuntary  shiver  passed  through  the  entire 
column.  Somewhere  among  the  shadows  of  that 
hill  huge  guns  were  hidden  ;  for  the  hill  itself  was  an 
enormous  fortress,  and  it  overhung  the  route  de 
Rueil. 

Bergeret  turned  his  carriage  and  rattled  along  the 
front  of  the  column,  chattering  and  jabbering.  "  It 's 
all  right,  there  's  nothing  to  fear,  my  friends,"  he 
cried.  "  The  fort  is  occupied  by  the  marines  !  The 
marines  are  for  the  people!  The  fort  is  with  us! 
Forward,  and  Vive  la  Commune  !  " 

"  Vive  your  grandmother,  you  empty-headed  ape ! " 
growled  McBarron.  But  Bergeret's  words  inspired 
confidence,  and  the  troops  pushed  on,  until  the  head 
of  the  column  reached  the  turn  in  the  road  where 
the  route  de  Rueil  passes  scarcely  eight  hundred 
metres  from  the  fortress. 

Suddenly  an  awful  explosion  shook  the  solid  earth, 
then  another,  then  another,  then  three  together.  It 
was  the  Gibets  redoubt.  Almost  at  the  same  instant 
the  upper  bastions  of  the  fortress  were  belted  with 
lightning,  and  the  majestic  thunder  of  the  siege  guns 
reverberated  among  the  highlands  opposite. 


308  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


A  frightful  panic  ensued.  Some  of  the  Federals 
lay  mangled,  some  dead,  others  threw  themselves  on 
their  faces  to  escape  the  bursting  shells,  but  the 
great  majority  of  the  troops,  terror-stricken,  broke 
into  a  wild  stampede.  In  vain  their  officers  attempted 
to  rally  them,  the  old  familiar  cry:  "Treason! 
treason  !  we  are  betrayed  !  "  spread  among  the  ranks, 
and  drowned  the  shouts  of  the  officers.  Every 
where  troops  were  throwing  away  their  arms  and 
flying  in  wild  disorder.  Artillery  horses,  panic- 
stricken,  dashed  about  in  all  directions,  dragging 
the  cannon  with  them.  Some  of  the  troops  seized 
the  horses,  and,  cutting  the  traces,  fled  to  Paris, 
ventre  a  terre. 

The  two  horses  attached  to  Bergeret's  vehicle  were 
blown  into  atoms,  but  the  "  General  "  escaped,  and 
disappeared  in  the  direction  of  Paris  at  the  top  of 
his  speed.  Flourens,  the  hot-headed  and  impetuous, 
fell  with  his  skull  split  clean  in  two  ;  the  command 
ant  of  the  24th  Battalion,  was  disembowelled  by  a 
shell,  and  twenty-five  of  his  men  lay  dead  or  wounded 
in  the  roadway  ;  the  I28th  Battalion  lost  a  lieutenant 
and  eighteen  men  ;  and  the  iSSth,  two  officers  blown 
to  smithereens,  and  fifteen  men  scattered  among  the 
ditches.  And  this  was  only  the  first  salvo  as  salute 
from  the  fortress  of  Mont-Valerien. 

The  ist  Paris  Turcos  had  not  been  directly  in 
the  line  of  fire,  having  halted  almost  at  the  entrance 
to  the  village,  but  two  giant  shells  crashed  into  their 
ranks  and  burst  as  they  struck.  Three  men  in  the 
first  company,  including  Cartier,  the  captain,  lay 
on  the  ground  ;  in  the  fifth  company  seven  men 


WITH  THE  RED  FLAG.  309 


were  killed,  and  the  captain,  Isidor  Weser,  was 
lying  under  his  dying  horse.  Sarre  took  it  very 
coolly. 

"  D — n  you,"  he  cried,  wheeling  through  the  ranks, 
— "  d — n  you  !  What  do  you  expect  when  you  come 
out  to  fight, — a  volley  of  confetti  ?  Steady  there — 
steady!  If  anybody  does  n't  like  it  I  '11  give  him 
something  he  '11  like  less !  Captain  Weser,  get  up, — 
here,  lieutenant,  just  give  him  a  pull.  Your  horse  is 
in  the  molasses,  but  you  're  not  hurt,  Captain  Weser. 
I  'd  like  to  hear  anybody  say  '  treason  '  in  my  bat 
talion  !  Attention  !  lie  down  !  " 

As  he  spoke  a  tempest  of  lead  broke  over  the 
heads  of  the  soldiers  and  the  rattle  of  a  mitrailleuse 
echoed  from  the  lower  slopes  of  the  fortressed  hill. 
Two  men  were  wounded,  one  a  boy  who  screamed 
and  pitched  headlong  into  the  ditch  below.  Philip, 
lying  on  his  stomach,  saw  Red  McGlone  quivering 
beside  him,  drenched  with  blood.  Daily  and  McBar- 
ron  were  holding  his  head. 

"  Red,"  said  McBarron,  kindly.  But  the  wounded 
man  only  gasped  :  "  What  t'  hell !  "  and  his  life  went 
out  in  the  dust  of  the  Rueil  road. 

Philip  turned  anxiously  toward  the  looming  fort 
ress,  now  silent  and  crowned  with  clouds,  but  from 
those  grey  battlements  no  cannon  flashed ;  only  the 
billowy  sea  of  smoke  belted  its  bastions.  He  saw 
his  captain,  Cartier,  rise  from  the  ground,  dazed  and 
rumpled,  with  a  long  red  gash  across  his  forehead ; 
he  saw  McBarron  methodically  examining  Red 
McGlone's  pockets,  and  as,  at  a  signal  from  Sarre, 
he  stood  up  with  the  others,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of 


3IO  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Weser,  green  with  terror,  staring  at  the  fortress  as 
though  hypnotized. 

On  every  side  streamed  the  wreck  of  Bergeret's 
corps,  legging  it  for  Paris,  howling  like  Indians.  Two 
guns,  the  wreck  of  a  mounted  battery,  stood  unin 
jured  in  a  foot-path  to  the  right ;  the  cannoniers  had 
cut  the  traces  and  galloped  off,  and  there  was  noth 
ing  to  be  done  in  that  direction.  Sarre  saw  it  and 
leered  at  the  flying  troops.  Then  he  turned  to  his 
major,  a  stupid-eyed  Breton  named  Gloanec,  who  sat 
on  his  horse  and  watched  the  stampede  with  almost 
as  much  emotion  as  a  cow. 

"  Fine  view,  Major,"  sneered  Sarre. 

"  Yes,"  replied  that  officer,  without  visible  interest. 

"  The  jig  's  up  in  Paris,"  said  Sarre. 

"  Ma  doui,"  replied  the  Major,  tranquilly.  An  of 
ficer  in  the  uniform  of  the  National  Guard  galloped 
up  to  Sarre  and  saluted  nervously. 

"  Well?"  demanded  Sarre. 

"  The — the  twenty  thousand  troop?  of  the  reserve 
across  the  river — General  Bergeret's  corps,  have 
gone " 

"  Gone  ! "  shrieked  Sarre,  leaping  straight  up  in 
his  saddle. 

"  Gone, — run  away,  Colonel — 

"  Then  by  G-d  !  "  yelled  Sarre,  "  I  '11  take  my  bat 
talion  to  Clamart  where  a  scented  monkey  does  n't 
command, — by  G-d  !  I  will, — I  've  had  enough  of  tin 
soldiers  !  Sound  the  alert !  Attention  !  By  columns 
of  four — here,  take  command,  Major —  -  I  '11  show 
this  traitor  Bergeret  what  I  can  do, — yes,  traitor ; 
I  Ve  said  it !  It  's  the  word  !  I  may  not  be  able  to 


WITH  THE   RED   FLAG.  311 


manoeuvre  a  battalion,  but  I  can  fight ; — you  '11  all 
see  ! — Weser,  climb  on  a  horse  d — n  quick,  or  there 
may  be  a  few  unpleasant  words  between  us.  Car- 
tier,  can  you  ride  ? — good  ;  it  's  only  a  scratch  as  you 
say.  Leave  the  dead  in  the  village  and  detail  four 
men  and  a  corporal  to  bury  them.  Any  of  the 
wounded  who  can't  come  must  wait  there  for  the 
ambulances.  So  they  ran,  did  they  ?  The  twenty 
thousand  National  Guards — ran  away  from  Neuilly 
when  they  heard  the  voice  of  Mont-Valerien  !  Look  ! 
there  go  the  Hussars  of  Death,  trailing  it  for  Cla- 
mart.  Good  carrion  crows  !  Follow  them,  soldiers, 
their  scent  is  keen  !  March  !  " 

Actually  frothing  at  the  mouth,  Sarre  drove  his 
spurs  into  his  big  horse  and  wheeled  into  the  village. 
As  he  passed  Philip  he  pointed  at  him  and  cried : 
"  I  put  that  man  in  your  keeping,  Captain  Cartier, 
and  you  will  answer  for  his  body,  dead  or  alive,  with 
your  own  !  "  Then,  cursing,  he  struck  his  horse  sav 
agely  with  his  gauntlet  and  plunged  into  the  Clamart 
road. 

It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  before  the 
battalion  came  in  sight  of  the  fort  of  Issy,  which  was 
commanded  by  Cluseret  and  had  just  been  supplied 
with  heavy  artillery.  Under  the  protection  of  the 
forts  of  the  south,  General  Duval  had  massed  his 
troops  in  two  columns,  one  occupying  the  Clamart 
road,  the  other  lying  under  the  Moulineaux  redoubt. 
It  was  the  best  disposition  possible, — far  better  than 
the  imbecile  manoeuvres  of  Bergeret's  army, — but 
still  the  centre  was  weak,  being  composed  of  possi 
bly  five  battalions  supported  by  two  batteries.  As 


312  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


Sarre,  at  the  head  of  the  1st  Turcos,  marched  un 
der  the  Moulineaux  redoubt,  a  staff-officer  galloped 
down  the  hill  to  meet  him. 

"Now  what  the  devil  does  this  peacock  want  ?" 
sneered  Sarre,  but  he  drew  bridle  and  returned  the 
officer's  perfect  salute  with  equal  precision. 

"  General  Duval  supposes  that  the  arrival  of  your 
battalion  confirms  the  report  of  General  Bergeret's 
disaster,  brought  in  a  few  minutes  ago  by  the  Hus 
sars  of  Death,"  said  the  staff-officer  whose  name  was 
Razoua,  and  who  had  served  as  chef  de  bataillon  in 
the  iO3d  until  taken  by  Duval  as  aid. 

"  General  Duval  supposes  correctly,"  replied  Sarre, 
and  an  ugly  flush  stained  his  forehead. 

"  Good,"  said  Razoua,  "  General  Duval's  compli 
ments,  and  orders  to  deploy  your  battalion  as  skir 
mishers  at  Bas-Meudon  woods.  The  attack  begins 
at  six ;  the  signal  a  cannon-shot  from  the  fort  of 
Issy.  It  is  almost  six  now." 

"  And  there  goes  the  cannon-shot !  "  cried  Sarre, 
in  great  good-humor,  as  a  ball  of  smoke  shot  from 
the  fort  and  a  sullen  boom  rolled  through  the  woods 
above. 

Shrill  hurrahs  rent  the  air  and  Duval's  battalions 
poured  out  of  the  Issy  crater,  through  the  Mouli 
neaux  redoubt  and  started  toward  Meudon,  cheering 
frantically.  Before  the  deep  reverberations  of  the 
first  shot  had  died  away,  a  sheet  of  flame  wrapped 
the  bastions  of  the  Vanves  fort  and  the  thunder  of 
the  great  mortars  was  echoed  from  the  fort  of  Mont- 
rouge,  while  the  Moulineaux  redoubt  flamed  and 
pounded  a  deep  accompaniment. 


WITH  THE  RED  FLAG.  313 


The  works  held  by  the  Versailles  army  replied  at 
once.  The  batteries  at  Chatillon,  Meudon,  and  Bas- 
Meudon  raged  and  blazed  ;  and  now  the  petulant 
crackling  of  the  mitrailleuses  could  be  heard  above 
Bas-Meudon,  and  the  crash  of  platoon  firing  sounded 
in  the  direction  of  Clamart  village. 

Almost  before  he  knew  it,  Philip  found  himself  in 
the  woods  of  Bas-Meudon,  flat  on  the  ground,  look 
ing  into  the  young  growth  beyond  where  a  few  large 
trees  relieved  the  monotony  of  the  saplings.  Car- 
tier,  his  captain,  stood  beside  him  watching  every 
movement  of  his  company,  urging  on  the  tardy,  cau 
tioning  the  laggards,  restraining  the  feather-brained. 

As  far  as  Philip  could  see,  his  squad  was  alone  in 
the  woods,  but  he  heard  the  twigs  snapping  on  either 
flank  and  he  knew  the  rest  of  the  battalion  were 
worming  their  way  through  the  undergrowth  toward 
the  heights  above. 

With  every  sense  alert  to  the  danger  in  front,  he 
yet  watched  his  opportunity  to  escape.  Captain 
Cartier  perhaps  divined  what  was  passing  in  his 
mind,  for  he  walked  over  to  him  and  sat  down  on 
a  log  beside  him. 

"  Soldier,"  he  said,  "  you  heard  what  the  Colonel's 
orders  are?  " 

"  Yes,  Captain  Cartier." 

"  I  shall  carry  them  out,"  said  Cartier. 

Philip  did  not  reply.  The  Captain  eyed  him  curi 
ously. 

"  You  are  not  a  coward, — I  see  that,"  he  said. 

"  No — not  a  coward.  I  do  not  wish  to  die,"  re 
plied  Philip,  quietly. 


314  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  And  you  are  frightened  at  the  sound  of  the 
shells?" 

"Yes,  they  frighten  me." 

"  Why  did  you  not  run  this  morning  then  ?  " 

"  Because  I  did  n't  have  a  chance,"  replied  Philip, 
innocently. 

"Ah — um — yes,"  said  Cartier,  twisting  his  blonde 
moustache, — "  er — you  do  not  care  for  the  Com 
mune  ?  " 

Philip  laughed  in  his  despair.  "  Care  for  it !  I  'm 
an  American ! " 

"  Oh !  Are  you  the  same  Landes  that  Rigault  is 
after  ?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  Oh  !  "  Cartier  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then 
he  stood  up  and  said  pleasantly  ;  "  For  my  part  I 
wish  you  were  safe ;  I  'm  no  -hangman,  but  I  have 
my  orders." 

"  Thank  you,  Captain  Cartier,"  said  Philip,  as  the 
officer  hurried  away. 

Foot  by  foot  the  skirmish  lines  wriggled  forward, 
their  bodies  scraping  and  rustling  among  the  dead 
leaves  like  snakes  in  the  underbrush.  From  time  to 
time  a  soldier  would  clap  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder 
and  aim  at  the  heights,  but  the  Captain  was  omni 
present,  and  always  kicked  up  the  rifle  with  a  stern 
admonition.  At  last  a  soldier  lying  next  to  Philip 
whipped  his  piece  to  his  cheek  and  fired.  Philip 
saw  a  vanishing  spot  of  scarlet  far  up  among  the 
saplings,  and  the  Captain  saw  it  too. 

The  ist  Turcos  had  struck  the  Versailles  pickets. 

When  the  echoes  of  the  single  shot  died  away,  a 


WITH  THE  RED  FLAG.  315 


silence  that  was  almost  mournful  fell  among  the 
troops.  Perhaps  they  began  to  realize  that  they 
were  fighting  their  own  fellow-countrymen  and  that  « 
it  was  civil  war  which  had  begun.  Cartier,  sad-eyed 
and  stern,  drew  his  revolver  and  sent  his  sword  ringing 
into  the  scabbard.  A  Turco  near  Philip  tucked  up 
his  sleeves  and  made  one  or  two  preliminary  passes 
with  his  sabre  bayonet  at  a  young  beech  tree.  Min 
ute  after  minute  passed  in  silence ;  the  long  line 
slowly  crept  onward  and  upward. 

Philip  was  beginning  to  feel  hot  and  thirsty  and 
had  already  started  toward  a  rivulet  which  trickled 
between  the  stones  of  an  old  watercourse,  when  a 
movement  in  the  woods  above  arrested  his  attention. 
He  turned  his  head.  A  soldier,  wearing  the  scarlet 
cap  and  trousers  of  the  loyal  army,  was  deliberately 
aiming  at  him,  and  before  he  could  realize  it  the 
rifle  cracked  and  a  bullet  sang  past  his  ears.  In 
stinctively  he  recoiled,  but  another  bullet  struck  his 
tin  cup,  and  another  whirled  up  the  dead  leaves 
beside  him.  Crack!  crack  !  crack — crackle — crackle! 
The  rifles  were  spurting  tiny  jets  of  flame  from  every 
thicket,  and  now,  as  he  peered  from  the  shelter  of 
an  oak  tree,  he  saw  the  red-legged  skirmishers 
dodging  about  the  woods  above,  crouching,  leaping, 
stealing  forward,  always  advancing,  until  the  report 
of  their  rifles  sounded  clear  and  sharp,  and  he  could 
almost  distinguish  faces.  The  Turcos  were  returning 
shot  for  shot,  and  the  firing  rippled  along  the  line 
until  it  blended  in  the  distant  tumult  of  the  forts. 

Philip  did  not  fire.  He  had  made  up  his  mind 
not  to  except  in  case  a  shot  alone  would  save  his 


t 


316  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


life.  He  intended  to  desert  at  the  first  opportunity. 
Once  in  the  hands  of  the  Versailles  troops,  he  would 
explain,  if  they  gave  him  time  before  shooting  him, 
and  if  they  did,  he  intended  to  take  his  revenge, 
rifle  in  hand,  on  Sarre  and  his  ruffians.  Even  the 
thought  of  his  duty  to  those  in  Paris, — to  Jeanne 
above  all,  could  not  overcome  his  fierce  longing  to 
requite  with  bullets  the  insults  which  had  been 
heaped  upon  him.  Sarre,  he  saw,  was  no  coward. 
He  would  give  him  his  chance,  but  Weser  he  would 
have  shot  down,  if  he  could,  like  a  weasel  or  a  skunk. 
Yes,  he  would  give  Sarre  a  fair  chance, — not  that 
he  deserved  it,  murderer  and  thilf  that  he  was,  but 
he  at  least  was  courageous.  Weser  should  be  simply 
removed  like  other  vermin — in  any  convenient  way. 
As  he  stood  clutching  his  rifle  and  thinking  of  his 
just  vengeance,  a  bullet,  flying  from  a  new  angle 
across  the  woods,  struck  his  water  bottle,  showering 
him  with  diluted  brandy.  At  the  same  instant  a 
howling  storm  of  canister  tore  through  the  branches, 
covering  the  Turcos  with  twigs  and  bark.  Gust 
after  gust  of  screaming  lead  whirled  over  them ; 
fiercer  and  fiercer  shrieked  the  hail,  until  the  tem 
pest  rose  to  a  whistling  blizzard  of  flame  and  shell, 
tearing  the  trees  to  slivers,  cutting  the  underbrush 
like  scythes,  ripping,  splintering,  scorching  all  before 
it.  Far  up  in  the  wooded  slopes  the  flashes  of  the 
guns  danced  and  twinkled  like  will  o'  the  wisps,  and 
the  rifles  of  the  Turcos  made  no  sound  in  the  crash 
of  the  cannon  and  the  mitrailleuses.  Cartier,  cool 
and  unscathed,  leaned  against  a  sapling  pointing  out 
the  Versailles  skirmishers,  directing  a  shot  here,  an 


WITH  THE  RED   FLAG.  317 


advance  there,  earnestly  cautioning  his  men  to  hug 
the  ground  and  fire  slowly.  Twice  Sarre  and  his 
staff,  dismounted,  hurried  along  the  line,  scanning 
anxiously  the  heights  where  the  batteries  crouched. 
The  second  time  they  passed,  the  Major  was  struck 
by  a  canister-shot,  and  they  bore  him  to  the  shelter 
of  a  tree. 

"  Curse  the  luck  !  it  's  all  over  with  Gloanec,"  said 
Sarre,  brutally  ;  and  a  few  seconds  later  the  unob 
trusive  Breton  died,  with  perhaps  even  less  emotion 
than  he  had  displayed  in  living. 

Weser's  company,  the  fifth,  had  been  driven  in 
with  trifling  lossep,  but  except  for  that,  the  1st 
Turcos  held  their  ground  well.  Their  timidity  at 
encountering  regular  troops  had  fled,  and  now  they 
lay  firing  and  cheering,  and  crept  on,  inch  by  inch, 
until  the  red-trousered  Versaillists  found  the  pace 
too  hot,  and  their  skirmishers  began  to  fall  back. 

Captain  Cartier  had  been  watching  Philip  for 
some  time,  and  finally  he  came  over  to  him  and  laid 
his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  You  have  not  fired  a 
shot  to-day,"  he  said. 

Philip  was  silent. 

"  It  won't  do, — it  won't  do,"  continued  the  Cap 
tain  ;  "  your  example  is  bad  for  the  rest.  You  must 
fire, — you  need  not  aim  too  closely." 

Philip  replied  by  levelling  his  rifle  at  a  stump  and 
deliberately  knocking  the  chips  from  it  with  his  first 
shot. 

"  A  sharpshooter  too, — well,  I  'm  sorry, — I  am 
very  sorry  you  are  not  with  us."  Cartier  stood  a 
moment,  thoughtfully  twirling  his  revolver,  then, 


t 


318  THE  RED  REPUBLIC, 


stepping  into  the  middle  of  his  company,  he  called 
the  names  of  seven  men  and  a  sergeant.  They  re 
sponded  instantly,  and  Cartier,  motioning  Philip  to 
fall  in  with  them,  pointed  to  a  slope  which  rose  to 
the  left,  divided  from  their  covert  by  a  gully. 
"  You  're  to  climb  to  the  top  of  that  slope,"  said 
the  Captain,  "  and  see  why  Captain  Weser's  men 
are  allowing  the  enemy's  skirmishers  to  nip  us  with 
their  cross-fire.  If  Captain  Weser  needs  help,  send 
a  man  to  me  ;  if  he  is  holding  his  own,  stay  and 
drive  out  the  enemy's  sharpshooters.  I  suspect  they 
are  over  there  near  that  group  of  sycamore  trees." 

The  sergeant  saluted,  and  the  little  squad  toiled 
across  the  gully  and  slowly  began  to  mount  the  op 
posite  incline.  The  slope  was  steep  and  densely 
wooded,  but  they  arrived  at  the  top  in  a  few  min 
utes  and  found  Weser's  men  popping  away  with  no 
thought  of  aim,  but  with  the  one  desire  to  make  as 
much  smoke  and  racket  as  possible.  Weser  himself 
was  sitting  down  behind  a  tree  in  the  rear — very 
much  in  the  rear.  The  only  reason  why  he  was  not 
lying  down  was  his  fear  of  Sarre.  He  could  have 
stood  the  ridicule. 

Weser's  men  were  nervous  and  dispirited.  This 
was  not  war  according  to  their  ideas.  Where  was 
the  white-plumed  leader  on  his  charger,  dashing  up 
to  the  cannon's  mouth  amid  waving  flags  and  acres 
of  bayonets  ?  Where  was  he  ?  Well,  in  this  case 
he  was  sitting  behind  a  tree  in  the  rear,  and  the 
white  plume  had  shrivelled  into  a  very  small  white 
feather.  The  truth  was,  Weser's  bowels  were  water, 
and  the  fright  of  the  battle  sounds  had  actually  made 


WITH  THE  RED  FLAG.  319 


him  sick  at  his  stomach.  Murder,  robbery,  forgery, 
he  could  easily  understand.  He  was  not  afraid  to 
slip  a  knife  into  a  man, — when  the  man  was  looking 
another  way,  but  this  zip  !  zip  !  z-z-tzing !  of  the  bul 
lets  was  another  matter,  and  for  his  part  he  cursed 
Sarre,  the  Commune,  and  all  its  works,  and  wished 
he  was  in  Paris  and  safe  in  bed. 

Five  men  had  been  killed  in  Weser's  company, 
two  of  them  by  the  same  bullet,  and  Philip  saw 
their  stiffening  corpses  half  supported  by  the  tree 
behind  which  a  cross-fire  volley  had  caught  them. 
The  sergeant,  a  tall,  good-humored  Alsatian,  was 
posting  his  men  to  pick  off  the  sharpshooters,  who 
had  gained  the  sycamore  covert  and  were  now  able 
to  fire  into  the  centre  of  Weser's  men.  Philip  found 
himself,  in  company  with  McBarron,  behind  a  lichen- 
covered  rock.  On  the  ground  under  a  neighboring 
tree  Con  Daily  squatted,  his  eyes  blazing  with  the 
fire  of  battle. 

The  cannonade,  which  a  moment  before  had  re 
doubled  in  violence,  now  suddenly  subsided  ;  the 
enemy's  rifles  were  silent,  and  there  only  remained 
dropping  shots  from  the  Turcos.  Philip  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  Versaillist  sharpshooter  slinking  away 
through  the  sycamore  thicket,  and  McBarron  saw 
him  at  the  same  moment,  but  before  he  could  pull 
trigger  a  deafening  cheer  rolled  from  the  trees  in 
front,  "  Vive  la  Patrie  !  Vive  la  France  !  A  la 
baionnette  !  "  and  out  of  the  thickets  on  every  side 
burst  swarms  of  fierce  scarlet  Zouaves,  whirling  their 
terrible  sabre-bayonets. 

Weser's  men  gave  them  one  astonished  stare — and 


32O  THE  RED  REPUBLIC, 


fled,  but  the  Zouaves  turned  on  Cartier's  company, 
snarling  like  tigers.  Philip  and  McBarron  crawled 
to  the  edge  of  the  slope  and  looked  over.  Every 
where  the  scarlet  of  the  Zouaves  was  mixed  with 
the  blue  of  the  Turcos,  everywhere  the  stocks  of 
heavy  rifles  rose  and  fell,  and  the  sharp  sabre-bayo 
nets  were  crimsoned  to  the  hilt.  It  was  over  be 
fore  Philip  could  catch  his  breath,  and,  as  there  was 
no  quarter  (a  humane  inspiration  of  Thiers),  there 
were  no  prisoners.  Captain  Cartier  lay  across  a  log 
over  which  his  brains  were  dripping  ;  beside  him  a 
Zouave  stood,  cleaning  the  butt  of  his  rifle  with  a 
handful  of  dried  leaves.  All  who  had  not  run  away 
were  dead  or  dying.  Philip  saw  the  coup-de-grace 
given,  and  his  heart  came  into  his  throat. 

"  That,"  said  McBarron,  calmly,  "  is  the  difference 
between  real  Zouaves  and  counterfeit  Turcos." 

"  Horrible — horrible  !  "  murmured  Philip,  in  Eng 
lish. 

Daily,  who,  in  company  with  the  other  six  men, 
had  come  up  to  the  edge  of  the  slope,  turned  to 
Philip  with  a  friendly  gesture. 

"  It  's  glad  I  am  ye  're  no  frog-ater " 

"  We  'd  better  be  going,"  interrupted  McBarron  ; 
"  come  on,  Con  Daily — and  you,  there,  whoever  you 
are, — we  must  get  out  of  this." 

"  Where  ?  "  said  Philip. 

"Now  how  should  he  know,  me  cherub  b'y?" 
said  Daily.  "  Come  on ;  come  on,  the  divil  do  I 
know  where " 

"  But  we  Ve  got  to  git,"  concluded  McBarron,  as  a 
bullet  whizzed  by  them  and  a  dozen  Zouaves  started 
into  the  gully  at  the  foot  of  the  slope. 


WITH  THE  RED   FLAG.  $21 


"  Give  them  a  volley  !  huroo  !  whurro  !  "  sang  out 
Daily,  banging  away  with  his  piece  until  McBarron 
grabbed  him  by  the  neck  and  started  after  the 
others  who  were  legging  it  for  safety.  They  caught 
up  with  Philip,  who  had  suddenly  decided  that  the 
Versaillist  army  was  not  exactly  the  harbor  of  refuge 
he  had  been  seeking,  and  they  ran  on  through 
woods,  keeping  the  sergeant  and  the  five  others  in 
sight.  Once  they  passed  a  dead  horse  across  which 
lay  a  Hussar  of  Death.  His  lips  were  stretched 
tightly  over  his  yellow  teeth,  and  his  sunken  eyes 
set  in  their  sockets  like  ivory  balls.  One  or  two 
brilliant  flies  buzzed  about  his  head. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

TCHERKA  HAS  AN  IDEA. 

WHEN  Mont-Val£rien  opened  its  iron  throat 
and  withered  General  Bergeret's  column  at 
a  breath,  the  majority  of  the  inhabitants 
of  Paris  were  still  sleeping.  There  were  probably  ex 
ceptions  ;  there  certainly  was  one — Tcherka. 

She  had  slipped  out  of  the  studio,  unnoticed,  the 
night  before  and  made  straight  for  the  rose  bush, 
which  unfortunate  shrub  she  had  marked  for  ruin. 
When  Joseph  came  to  lock  the  door,  Tcherka  hid 
behind  the  lilacs  until  he  had  disappeared  with  his 
lantern.  Then  she  knew  that  the  night  was  hers. 
A  night  on  the  garden  walls  all  alone  !  She  had  never 
been  allowed  to  roam  at  night,  but  she  often  longed 
for  the  revelry  of  the  moonlit  roof  tops  when  she 
heard  other  cats  burst  into  impassioned  argument  or 
scuttle  over  the  tiles.  Instinct  told  Tcherka  that 
the  cats  who  gambolled  and  chanted  among  the 
chimney-pots  when  the  spring  moonlight  flooded 
roof  and  wall,  were  not  good  cats.  Tcherka  herself 
was  a  good  cat.  She  knew  this  because  Jeanne 
often  told  her  so.  Being  a  good  cat  she  desired  to 
play  with  bad  cats ;  and  this  was  her  opportunity. 

Tcherka  was  not  in  a  hurry  to  mount  the  wall  and 
explore  the  delicious  unknown  in  the  next  garden. 

322 


TCHERKA    HAS  AN  IDEA.  323 


Coquette  by  nature,  she  even  coquetted  with  her 
self,  and  now  she  was  pretending  to  herself  that  she 
had  n't  the  slightest  interest  in  whatever  lay  over 
the  wall.  She  walked  about,  frisking  occasionally 
with  a  tempting  dry  leaf  or  a  particularly  enticing 
pebble,  then  she  polished  her  beautiful  claws  on  the 
cherry  tree,  leaped  softly  to  the  edge  of  the  fountain, 
and  sat  down.  Liberty  was  sweet  to  Tcherka,  very 
sweet,  and  a  delightful  sense  of  danger  thrilled  her, 
for  she  was  a  maiden  cat,  and  this  shadowy  moonlit 
world  was  new  and  strange. 

She  had  sat  there  perhaps  ten  minutes,  and  was 
beginning  to  eye  the  wall  again,  when  a  swift  shadow 
fell  across  the  gravel,  and  the  ghost-like  silhouette  of 
a  strange  cat  appeared  on  the  very  wall  she  was 
looking  at.  Tcherka  slowly  stiffened  into  a  living 
statue.  It  was  a  gentleman  cat. 

On  his  part  it  was  love  at  first  sight.  Perhaps  the 
novelty  of  Tcherka's  gaudy  scarlet  tail  may  have 
settled  him  ;  but,  however  it  was,  he  was  smitten — 
deeply  smitten,  and  he  wasted  no  time.  His  court 
ship  song  was  weird  and  wonderful.  He  reached 
through  octaves  possibly  never  before  traversed  by 
any  voice ;  his  deep  chest  notes  ended  in  masterly 
gurgles ;  his  crescendos  were  crescendos  of  a  vir 
tuoso. 

Jeanne  de  Brassac  was  lying  awake  in  her  bed. 
All  through  the  long  night  she  tossed  and  turned, 
thinking  of  Philip,  pressing  her  throbbing  head  deep 
into  the  pillows.  Marguerite  had  sunk  into  a  heavy 
sleep  of  exhaustion,  and  the  starlight,  falling  on  her 
face,  trembled  in  points  of  light  under  her  wet  lashes. 


324  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Jeanne  could  not  sleep,  but  it  was  nearly  morning 
before  she  crept  from  her  couch  and  went  to  the 
window.  A  cat  was  sitting  on  the  wall  underneath, 
making  melody  as  he  understood  it,  but,  as  Jeanne 
leaned  from  the  window,  he  darted  into  the  shadows, 
and  a  moment  later  Tcherka  sprang  to  the  wall,  and, 
looking  up  at  Jeanne,  hoisted  her  tail  with  a  little 
mew  of  recognition.  Jeanne  looked  at  the  cat  indif 
ferently  at  first,  although  she  knew  Tcherka  was 
transgressing  all  rules,  but  after  a  while  she  tried  to 
occupy  her  mind  with  the  creature,  and  attempted 
to  coax  her  in.  Of  course  Tcherka  refused. 

"  Come,  Tcherka  dear,  come,  my  own  darling 
Tcherka,"  whispered  Jeanne,  leaning  far  out  of  the 
window. 

The  night  was  deliciously  cool,  and  her  hot  fore 
head  throbbed  less  painfully.  Then,  as  she  could 
not  sleep,  she  dressed  herself  noiselessly,  threw  a 
scarf  over  her  head,  and  went  quietly  down  the 
stairs  and  out  into  the  garden.  Without  taking 
count  of  time,  she  moved  up  and  down  the  paths 
she  loved,  thinking  always  of  Philip.  It  began  to 
grow  brighter ;  the  bells  in  the  convent  rang  for 
half-past  four  o'clock.  Jeanne  sank  down  by  the 
stone-rimmed  fountain  to  rest. 

A  second  later  and  the  city  was  shaking  with  the 
thunder  from  Mont-Val£rien. 

At  the  first  shot,  Tcherka  gave  a  bound  of  amaze 
ment.  At  the  second,  she  leaped  into  the  garden 
and  fled  through  the  ivy-covered  alley  toward  the 
street  gate.  Jeanne,  who  had  risen  to  her  feet,  pale 
as  death,  saw  Tcherka  scramble  past,  and  a  minute 


TCHERKA    HAS  AN  IDEA.  325 


later  realized  that  the  cat  had  made  for  the  outer 
gate.  Scarcely  conscious  of  what  she  was  doing,  she 
followed  her  pet  through  the  alley  and  came  to  the 
gate  on  the  rue  Notre  Dame  just  in  time  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  Tcherka  flying  along  the  convent  wall 
opposite,  toward  the  barricade  on  the  rue  Vavin. 
Without  a  thought  of  herself  she  flung  open  the  side 
wicket  and  ran  across  the  street  calling,  "  Tcherka ! 
Tcherka  !  "  but  at  that  moment  a  terrific  salvo  from 
the  north  drowned  her  voice  and  sent  the  cat  scurry 
ing  on  toward  the  barricade.  Jeanne  ran  quickly 
along  the  grey  facade  of  the  convent,  always  keep 
ing  Tcherka  in  view,  and  she  had  almost  caught  up 
with  the  cat,  when  a  burly  figure  sprang  across  the 
sidewalk  and  aimed  a  blow  at  Tcherka  with  a  rifle 
butt.  The  cat  dodged  and  flew  over  the  barricade, 
and  Jeanne,  who  had  followed  close,  turned  on  the 
Turco  like  a  tigress. 

"  How  dare  you  touch  my  cat !  " 

The  Turco,  a  fat-jowled  youth  with  a  dull  eye  and 
beardless  chin,  stared  at  her  stupidly. 

"  How  dare  you  !  "  said  Jeanne,  in  a  low  voice  ; 
"  let  me  pass  instantly  !  " 

Before  the  sentinel  could  open  his  mouth  she  had 
traversed  the  barricade  and  was  hurrying  across  the 
rue  Vavin  toward  the  Luxembourg.  Then  the 
Turco  came  to  his  senses  and  ran  to  the  barricade. 
"  Halt !  Halt  or  I  fire  !  "  he  called  out,  and  swung 
his  rifle  to  his  cheek,  but  Jeanne,  as  if  she  had  not 
heard  him,  kept  straight  on. 

"  Halt  or  I  fire  !  "  he  cried  again.  She  did  not 
even  turn  her  head.  He  hesitated  for  a  moment, 


326  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

lowered  his  rifle,  raised  it  again  irresolutely,  and 
finally  set  it  down  with  a  bang.  He  was  not  yet  hard 
ened  to  that  point ;  and  when,  aroused  by  his  warn 
ing  challenge,  the  guard  came  stumbling  out  of  the 
caf6  on  the  corner,  he  lied  to  the  corporal  and  took 
a  round  cursing  from  that  individual  without  a  mur 
mur.  Five  minutes  later  the  sentinels  were  changed 
and  he  was  relieved.  Ten  minutes  later  Jeanne  re 
appeared  at  the  barricade  with  Tcherka  clasped 
tightly  in  her  arms.  The  new  sentinel  saw  her  and 
brought  his  gun  to  a  charge.  At  his  challenge  she 
shrank  back  a  little  and  then  stood  still.  The  sentinel, 
a  sensual  thick-set  fellow,  laughed  and  addressed  her 
chaffingly. 

"  It  's  too  early  for  the  market,  Mademoiselle,  and 
besides,  we  Turcos  never  eat  yellow  cats, — only 
black." 

"  I  wish  to  pass,"  murmured  Jeanne,  who  now  be 
gan  to  realize  her  position. 

"  Tiens  !  So  do  many  people  who  can't  give  the 
word  or  show  a  pass.  They  're  not  all  as  pretty  as 
you  though.  Come,  let  's  be  sociable.  Will  you 
give  me  a  kiss  if  I  let  you  pass  ?  " 

Jeanne  was  frightened.  As  she  stood  there,  hug 
ging  Tcherka  desperately  to  her  breast,  she  could  see 
the  coarse  face  of  the  sentinel  all  flushed  and  bloated, 
with  little  wicked  eyes  leering  at  her  across  the  bar 
ricade,  and  her  knees  trembled.  There  was  no  use. 
One  glance  at  the  man's  face  was  sufficient,  but 
nevertheless  she  tried  again  and  told  her  story  with 
a  faint  heart. 

"  And  you  followed  that  cat  ?  " 


TCHERKA   HAS  AN  IDEA.  327 


"  Yes." 

"  From  where?  " 

"  From  my  house." 

"  Where  do  you  live  and  what  is  your  name  ?  " 

Jeanne  was  silent.  She  dared  not  say  where  she 
lived,  and  she  dared  not  tell  her  name. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  sentinel,  with  an  impu 
dent  grin,  "  those  little  histories  are  very  pretty  for 
children.  Come  and  give  me  a  kiss  or  two  and  we 
will  find  other  things  to  talk  about  !  " 

Sick  with  fright,  she  turned  and  ran  down  the 
street  toward  the  Luxembourg  again.  The  rue 
Vavin  was  black  and  deserted  but  the  rue  de  Lux 
embourg  was  brighter  and  a  stream  of  people  was 
passing  along  the  gilded  iron  railing  of  the  Gardens 
toward  the  rue  de  Vaugirard.  Jeanne  instinctively 
felt  that  she  was  safer  in  a  crowd  than  alone  in  the 
silent  streets,  and  she  hurried  on  and  mixed  with 
the  moving  people,  wondering  what  had  brought 
women  and  children  into  the  streets  at  that  hour. 
What  to  do,  now  that  her  only  refuge  was  gone,  was 
a  question  she  dared  not  ask  herself. 

She  had  literally  no  roof,  no  bed,  and  not  one 
penny.  Her  misfortune  was  too  sudden,  too  terrible 
for  her  to  understand  at  once.  She  followed  the 
crowd  of  men  and  women  because  she  felt  safer  with 
them  and  she  had  no  other  place  to  go.  Where  they 
were  going  and  why,  she  did  not  stop  to  enquire,  but 
she  hugged  Tcherka  close  and  slipped  along  beside  a 
tall  gaunt  grey-haired  woman  who  carried  a  loaf  of 
bread  and  a  bottle  of  wine  in  one  hand  and  led  a 
little  child  by  the  other.  Once  or  twice  the  woman 


328  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


glanced  at  her  without  speaking,  but  as  they  crossed 
the  rue  de  Vaugirard  and  turned  into  the  rue  Bona 
parte  she  said  abruptly :  "  Why  do  you  take  your  cat 
with  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Jeanne. 

The  woman's  voice  was  not  unkind,  and  when  she 
spoke  again  Jeanne  looked  up  into  her  sad  eyes. 

"  Is  it  a  father  or  a  brother  or  a  lover,  my  child  ?  " 
said  the  woman. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Madame,"  replied 
Jeanne,  faintly. 

The  woman  stared.  "You  know  where  you  are 
going?"  she  demanded. 

Jeanne  was  silent. 

"  And  you  know  that  the  battle  has  begun  ?  "  con 
tinued  the  woman. 

"  I — I  heard  the  cannon,"  replied  Jeanne. 

"  My  boy  is  with  the  Turcos,  the  First  Paris 
Battalion,"  sighed  the  woman  ;  "they  marched  with 
General  Bergeret.  They  say  one  can  see  everything 
from  the  fortifications." 

"Are  you  going  to  the  fortifications?"  asked 
Jeanne,  timidly. 

"  Of  course,  are  not  you  ?  I  thought  you  had  a 
brother  or  a  lover  with  the  army; — you  are  out  so 
early."  Then  she  cast  a  searching  glance  at  Jeanne's 
white  face.  "  My  child,"  she  said,  "  you  are  in 
trouble.  What  brings  you  out  into  the  streets  at 
this  hour.  Tell  me, — I  can  see  you  are  good." 
But  Jeanne  drew  closer  to  her  and  hugged  Tcherka 
tighter,  saying,  "  let  me  stay  with  you,  Madame,  I 
am  very  unhappy." 


TCHERKA   HAS  AN  IDEA.  329 


Day  was  breaking  when  they  reached  the  glacis  of 
the  fortifications.  In  the  pallid  light,  thousands  of 
figures  stood  out  against  the  sky,  men,  women,  and 
children,  who  had  swarmed  to  the  bastions  when  the 
heavy  voice  of  Mont-Valerien  awoke  them  in  their 
beds.  The  city  gate  below  was  open,  and  the  long 
road  which  stretched  away  into  the  country  was 
crowded  with  people  who  had  come  to  see  a  battle. 
As  six  o'clock  chimed  from  the  city  bells,  the  first 
gun  from  the  Issy  fort  boomed  out,  followed  by  the 
crash  of  the  batteries  in  all  the  forts  of  the  south. 
A  moment  later  the  Versailles  works  joined  in  and 
the  artillery  duel,  which  was  the  signal  for  Duval's 
advance,  began  with  a  din  so  terrible  that  many 
women  left  the  fortifications  and  even  the  gamins 
looked  uncomfortable. 

Jeanne  sat  on  the  granite  parapet  overlooking  the 
country  below  Versailles,  clinging  to  Tcherka,  who 
scrambled  madly  when  the  bombardment  began. 
Beside  her  sat  the  grey-haired  woman,  holding  the 
child,  a  girl  of  six.  Below  them  the  Seine  wound 
through  the  plain,  curving  out  by  Neuilly,  where  the 
black  gun-boat  lay.  Clusters  of  red-roofed  villages 
dotted  the  plain,  with  here  and  there  a  tower  or 
steeple  or  a  patch  of  woodland  tinged  with  tender 
green.  The  smoke  of  the  battle  rose  above  the  Issy 
fort  and  hung  low  over  Meudon  woods.  Bas-Meudon 
was  quiet  and  clear. 

"  My  name  is  Cartier,"  said  the  woman  to  Jeanne. 
After  a  moment  she  added  ;  "  you  need  not  tell  me 
yours,  my  child." 

"  My  name  is  Jeanne  de  Brassac,"  said  Jeanne, 
simply. 


330  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Madame  Cartier  started  and  turned  toward  her 
with  compassion  in  her  eyes.  "  My  poor  girl!  "  she 
murmured,  "  my  poor  girl !  " 

"You  have  heard  then?"  whispered  Jeanne. 

"  Yes, — the  reward  is  posted  in  our  street.  Why 
did  you  tell  me?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Jeanne,  wearily ;  "  I 
trust  you." 

"You  may,"  said  Madame  Cartier.  Then  she 
told  Jeanne  how  her  son,  who  had  been  a  carpenter, 
was  already  captain  in  the  1st  Turcos  and  hoped 
soon  to  be  promoted.  "  He  is  a  good  son  to  me," 
she  said ;  "  he  would  not  let  me  sew  any  longer  as 
soon  as  he  got  work,  and  we  were  very  happy  until 
the  war  broke  out.  Then  my  son  went  to  Metz 
with  Bazaine  the  traitor,  and  was  betrayed — sold  to 
the  Prussians !  Ah !  He  has  suffered  from  the 
thieves  who  now  come  to  crush  us  into  slavery  with 
Monsieur  Thiers  at  their  head ! ,  Do  you  hear  the 
sound  of  their  cannon?" 

"  I  hear,"  sighed  Jeanne. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  have  done,"  continued 
Madame  Cartier,  hushing  the  little  girl  to  sleep  on 
her  lap,  "  but  I  am  sure  the  Commune  has  no  need 
to  trouble  a  child  of  your  age.  If  the  reward  for  your 
arrest  were  millions  it  would  not  make  any  difference 
to  me.  Are  you  ill?" 

"111?     Oh— no— no!" 

"You  are  so  white." 

"  I — I  have  lost  a — brother, — my  only  living 
friend." 

"Was  he  killed?" 


TCHERKA    HAS  AN  IDEA.  331 


"  Oh,  no,"  whispered  Jeanne,  with  a  horrified 
face  ;  "  he — I  am  afraid  he  has  been  obliged  to 
hide  from  the  Commune." 

"  Mademoiselle,  be  thankful  he  is  not  out  there 
among  the  shells  and  bullets.  My  son  is  there. 
Do  you  know  what  I  feel?" 

"Yes— I  do,  I  think." 

"  Because  you  love  your  brother." 

"  He  is — is  not  my  real  brother " 

"  Ah !  my  child,  my  child  !  "  said  Madame  Cartier, 
gently. 

The  terrible  thunder  from  the  forts  continued,  day 
was  advancing  ;  the  two  women  sat  silent,  leaning 
together.  Under  her  grey  hair  Madame  Cartier's 
face  looked  very  wan.  Jeanne  leaned  over  and  kissed 
her  withered  cheek. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu  ! "  moaned  the  woman, 
"  nous  autres — nous  sommes  bien  bien  malheu- 


reuses 


A  voice  from  the  gate  below  broke  in  harshly : 
"  Bergeret's  corps  has  been  annihilated  by  Mont- 
Val6rien !  " 

For  a  moment  a  sort  of  stupor  fell  upon  the 
people  who  thronged  the  bastion.  Then  the  cry 
arose,  "  Treason  !  treason  !  "  Everywhere  women 
crowded,  imploring,  demanding  news  of  some  bat 
talion  or  squadron ;  the  officers  on  the  parapets 
were  overwhelmed  with  anxious  questions  which 
they  found  impossible  to  answer.  And  now  in  the 
roads  below,  the  first  stragglers  from  Bergeret's 
column  ran  up,  howling  disaster  and  treason,  and 
before  they  had  passed  the  gates,  terrified  masses  of 


332  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


Federals  appeared,  flying  from  the  Pont  de  Neuilly, 
horses,  cannon,  infantry,  and  baggage  wagons  mixed 
in  an  indescribable  tor'rent.  Awful  stories  of  the 
butchery  by  the  cannon  of  Mont-Valerien  were  circu 
lated  ;  some  said  that  Bergeret  was  killed  after  having 
two  horses  shot  under  him  in  as  many  gallant  charges. 
It  was  perfectly  true  that  he  had  had  two  horses 
killed, — not  under,  but  in  front  of  him,- — dragging 
his  carriage.  The  news  of  Flourens'  death  drew 
cries  of  anger  and  revenge  from  the  crowd,  as  the 
battalions  filed  past  and  entered  the  gate,  now 
packed  on  every  side  by  anxious  thousands. 

"  Where  are  the  Turcos  ?  "  cried  a  voice  on  the 
glacis. 

"  Killed  to  a  man  !  "  shouted  a  frightened  Mobile. 

Madame  Cartier  stood  straight  up,  quivering  all 
over. 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  a  heavy,  good-natured  officer 
of  the  National  Guard  who  had  climbed  the  glacis  to 
watch  the  entry  of  the  troops.  "  Nonsense ! "  he 
repeated  loudly,  "  the  Turcos  are  all  right.  They 
were  not  in  the  line  of  fire,  and  they  did  n't  run 
away  as  we  did." 

Then  the  crowd  cheered  for  the  Turcos,  and  some 
even  began  to  jeer  at  the  National  Guard  battalions 
as  they  streamed  along  below  toward  the  centre  of 
the  city. 

A  soldier  came  out  of  the  telegraph  station  and 
posted  up  on  the  wall  a  despatch  which  claimed  a 
victory  for  Bergeret,  and  ended  :  "  Have  no  fear ! 
All  goes  well  with  our  troops.  Bergeret  himself  is 
there ! " 


TCHERKA    HAS  AN  IDEA.  333 


This  evoked  a  storm  of  derision. 

"  Bergcret  Jiimself?  And  who  is  Bergeret  him 
self  ?  "  yelled  a  gamin. 

A  roar  of  angry  laughter  followed  ;  and  from  that 
day  the  imbecile  Bergeret  was  known  from  one  end 
of  France  to  the  other  as  "  Bergeret  Himself." 

"  Victory?"  cried  one,  "if  this  is  victory,  give  me 
disaster  and  defeat  !  " 

"  They  are  running  very  fast  from  their  field  of 
triumph  !  "  shouted  another. 

Madame  Cartier  approached  the  good-natured 
National  Guard  who  had  spoken  so  frankly  about 
his  own  flight  and  the  probable  safety  of  the  Turcos. 

"How  do  you  know  the  Turcos  are  safe?"  she 
said. 

"  Because  I  saw  them  marching  in  good  order 
toward  the  Clamart  road.  They  have  probably  gone 
to  join  General  Duval, — who  is  a  general,"  replied 
the  officer,  while  he  filled  his  pipe  with  perfect  equa 
nimity. 

"  Do  you  know  Captain  Cartier?" 

"  I  do,  Madame,  and  all  his  company." 

"Is  he  safe?" 

"  I  saw  him  with  his  company,  filing  through  the 
village  after  the  fortress  had  ceased  firing." 

"  Was  anybody  killed  in  his  company?  " 

"  I  saw  an  American  named  McGlone  lying 
dead — 

Jeanne  caught  the  words  "  dead "  and  "  Ameri 
can,"  and  drew  near,  holding  tightly  to  Tcherka. 
"  An  American  dead  ?  "  she  asked  ;  "  where  ?  " 

"  In  the  Rueil  road,  Madame." 


334  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"When?" 

"  When  the  fortress  was  peppering  us." 

"  Did  you  know  this  American  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes — I  camped  last  night  with  my  comrade 
Cartier,  and  I  saw  several  Americans  in  the  bat 
talion, — one  a  new  man,  just  brought  in.  He  did  n't 
seem  very  happy,  and  Cartier  said  that  Sarre,  the 
Colonel,  hated  him." 

"A  soldier?"  enquired  Jeanne. 

"Yes." 

Jeanne  turned  away  with  a  feeling  of  relief,  but 
before  she  had  taken  two  steps  she  heard  the  officer 
say:  "  Madame,  that  new  recruit  answered  to  the 
description  of  the  man  Landes,  whom  Raoul  Ri- 
gault  is  so  anxious  to  get  that  he  has  just  doubled 
the  reward.  I  mentioned  it  to  Captain  Cartier,  but 
he  thought  I  was  mistaken,  because  Sarre  knew  him, 
and  if  he  had  been  this  fellow  Landes  he  would 
have  turned  him  over  to  Rigault  in  quick  time,  I 
can  tell  you." 

Jeanne  crept  back  to  Madame  Cartier,  and  leaned 
on  her  shoulder.  "  How  did  this  American  look?  " 
she  asked  quietly. 

The  officer  described  Philip  so  perfectly  that 
Jeanne  felt  herself  turning  faint. 

"  Don't  you  see,  Mademoiselle  ?  "  he  explained, 
"  that  is  exactly  like  the  description  in  Raoul 
Rigault's  notice.  Captain  Cartier  said  this  one  was 
caught  trying  to  scale  a  wall  in  the  Passage  Stanislas, 
dressed  as  a  National  Guard,  and  Sarre  gave  him  his 
choice  of  joining  the  ranks  or  being  shot.  But 
Rigault  will  get  him  all  in  good  time — 


TCHERKA    HAS  AN  IDEA.  335 


"But  my  son  told  you,  did  he  not,  Monsieur,  that 
it  was  not  the  same  man  for  whom  the  reward  is 
offered  ?  "  said  Madame  Cartier,  indifferently,  and, 
as  if  they  had  heard  all  they  wished  to,  she  drew 
Jeanne  away  to  the  parapet. 

"  You  love  Monsieur  Landes,"  she  whispered,  as 
they  stood  by  themselves.  "  Your  name  is  on  the 
notice  of  arrest  with  his.  Do  you  think  this  soldier 
in  the  Turco  battalion  can  be  he  ?  " 

"  I  know  it  is  he,"  said  Jeanne,  in  a  heart-sick  voice. 

At  noon  the  news  came  that  the  Turcos  were 
routed,  that  one  company  had  been  annihilated  in 
Bas-Meudon  woods,  and  the  remainder  were  being 
pursued  by  the  ferocious  Zouaves  of  Charette. 
Jeanne  heard  it  at  the  gate  and  stepped  out  into  the 
road  beyond. 

Weser's  Turcos  of  the  5th  company  were  passing, 
and  she  recognized  the  uniform  and  stopped  a  soldier 
with  a  gesture. 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  " 

"Bas-Meudon." 

"  Where  is  that  ?  " 

.The  Turco  pointed  to  the  hill. 

"  Where  are  the  others  of  your  regiment  ?  " 

"  The  dead  are  in  the  woods ;  the  rest  are  running 
to  get  out  of  the  woods,"  said  the  soldier,  grimly,  and 
tramped  away  into  the  city. 

Jeanne,  the  tears  rolling  down  her  pale  cheeks, 
gazed  at  the  distant  wooded  slope,  all  dotted  with 
little  clouds  of  smoke.  Tcherka  leaped  from  her  tired 
arms  and  trotted  ahead  out  into  the  country  road, 
looking  back  at  her  mistress  to  see  if  she  would  fol< 


33^  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


low.  Tcherka  had  an  idea.  It  was  that  if  she  might 
wheedle  her  mistress  into  the  country  they  could 
have  a  much-needed  romp  together.  So  Tcherka 
stood  in  the  morning  sunlight,  her  magnificent  eyes 
glowing  like  twin  emeralds,  looking  coquettishly 
back  at  Jeanne,  who  stood  white  and  silent  in  the 
city  gate. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

SAJ?£E   PAYS  A    DEBT. 

WHEN  the  Zouaves  of  Charette  emerged  from 
Bas-Meudon  woods  they  had  swept  the 
underbrush  clean  of  all  living  creatures. 
Twice  the  Hussars  of  Death  turned  and  swooped 
through  their  flanks,  black  cloaks  in  ribbons,  sabres 
dripping  from  point  to  hilt,  but  the  Zouaves  drove 
them  into  the  ditches,  ripping  and  stabbing  horses 
and  riders  with  their  terrible  sabre-bayonets  ;  and,  at 
last,  shouting  hoarsely,  the  Hussars  of  Death  wheeled 
into  flight  across  the  stubble  to  the  open  country 
beyond. 

Sarre's  Turcos  had  been  taken  by  the  flank,  and 
the  blow  fell  disastrously  where  Weser's  men  had 
fled  and  Cartier's  company  had  been  annihilated. 
The  point  of  the  wedge  had  entered  here,  and  both 
wings  of  the  battalion  were  curling  up  like  withering 
leaves.  Sarre  raged,  shrieking  curses  on  his  men, 
driving  them  forward  at  the  point  of  his  revolver,  but 
the  Zouaves  sprang  in,  storming  like  fiends  among 
the  wavering  ranks,  hewing,  smashing,  slashing, 
dragging  officers  from  their  horses  and  bayoneting 
them  without  mercy,  seizing  battle  flags,  ripping  the 
red  standard  of  the  Commune  from  its  gilded  staff. 
And  now  it  was  over.  What  remained  of  the  ist 
22  337 


THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

Battalion  of  Paris  Turcos  was  fighting  its  way  with 
the  fury  of  despair  toward  the  open  country.  Again 
and  again  the  Zouaves  hurled  themselves  on  the  lit 
tle  square  with  the  bayonet,  and  at  each  mad  strug 
gle  the  group  of  Turcos  dwindled,  but  the  Zouaves 
left  as  many  dead  and  dying  among  the  ditches  and 
potato  hills  as  did  the  Turcos. 

Sarre,  still  mounted,  seemed  to  hold  the  little  band 
around  him  by  main  strength  of  will.  His  sabre,  all 
smeared  with  thick  blood  and  hair,  hovered  above 
the  shock  of  encounter,  menacing  the  enemy,  threat 
ening  the  faint-hearted  among  his  own  followers. 

There  were  perhaps  two  hundred  men  around  him 
when  they  reached  the  Clamart  route,  but  the 
Zouaves  were  firing  now  by  platoons,  and  the  Turcos 
fell  like  leaves  in  a  storm,  till  a  dip  in  the  road  and 
a  long  ridge  gave  them  a  moment's  shelter.  Sarre 
glared  about  him  like  a  trapped  wolf.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  road  stood  a  solitary  stone  farm-house  set 
back  among  the  trees  of  an  orchard.  At  a  glance  he 
saw  that  here  he  must  stand  at  bay.  There  was  no 
use  going  farther,  although  they  were  within  sight  of 
the  fortifications  of  Paris.  Ten  minutes  more  of  the 
Zouaves'  fusilade  would  leave  absolutely  nothing  of 
his  command.  It  was  a  choice  of  dying  in  the  open 
road  or  of  dying  behind  the  stone  walls  of  a  house. 
Sarre  chose  the  latter,  not  because  he  had  the  faint 
est  hope  of  help  from  Duval,  the  fort  of  Issy, 
or  from  Paris,  but  because  here  he  could  longer 
stave  off  death  and  have  more  time  to  kill  Zouaves. 
With  a  deadly  glance  at  the  red  fezes  of  the  Zouaves 
which  began  to  bob  up  over  the  crest  of  the  ridge, 


SARRE   PA  YS  A    DEBT.  339 


he  led  his  men,  now  numbering  possibly  fifty,  into 
the  orchard  near  the  farm-house. 

"  A  man  to  every  tree  ! "  he  shouted  ;  "  ten  men 
to  hold  that  hedge ;  six  men  behind  the  well-curb. 
Is  there  a  captain  here  ?  What !  Have  they 
peppered  all  my  captains?  Hey  !  You  there, — you 
lieutenant,  d — n  you,  I  forget  your  name, — take 
command  in  the  orchard  and  hold  out!  Hold  out! 
You  'd  better  if  you  know  what  's  good  for  you — 
the  Zou-Zous  don't  take  any  prisoners.  We  Ve  got 
to  hold  until  they  send  from  Paris  and  get  us  out  of 
this  frying-pan."  Then  noticing  Philip  standing 
silently  beside  McBarron  and  Con  Daily,  he  walked 
up  to  him  with  a  grin.  "You  here?"  he  demanded  ; 
"well!  well!  You  have  no  luck  at  all.  It 's  very 
funny  to  think  that  you  are  going  to  be  spitted  on 
one  of  your  own  bayonets.  They  give  no  quarter." 

Philip  turned  away  without  answering,  and  Sarre 
walked  over  to  the  shelter  of  the  well-curb,  for  the 
shots  began  to  patter  among  the  trees,  and  the 
Turcos  down  by  the  hedge  were  firing  frantically. 

"Lie  down,"  said  McBarron,  "lie  down,  both  of 
you  !  " 

Daily,  instead  of  obeying,  coolly  brought  his  rifle 
to  his  cheek  and  dropped  a  distant  Zouave  in  his 
tracks. 

"  What  d'  ye  think  av  that !  "  he  shouted,  shoving 
in  another  cartridge. 

"  Lie  down,  Con  Daily,  you  fool !  "  growled  Mc 
Barron,  taking  long  aim  at  an  officer  of  Zouaves  and 
knocking  him  clean  over  with  a  bullet  through  the 
face. 


340  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Fool ! "  yelled  Daily,  "  I  'm  no  fool  F  11  have  ye 
know — whurroo  !  d'  ye  mark  that,  McBarron  ?  "  as 
his  rifle  spit  flame  again  and  another  Zouave  sprang 
into  the  air  and  fell,  turning  and  twisting  over  the 
ground. 

And  now  the  fire  grew  close  and  deadly.  From 
behind  every  tree,  every  hummock,  every  hedge-row, 
the  Turcos  poured  streams  of  bullets  into  the  char 
ging  Zouaves.  The  orchard  smoked  like  a  bonfire. 
Three  times  the  Zouaves  came  on,  up  to  the  very 
hedge-rows,  but  they  could  not  stand  the  deadly 
storm.  The  trees  and  hedges  were  fringed  with 
flame,  and  death  swept  out  of  the  rolling  puffs  of 
smoke,  mowing  the  Zouaves  into  rows  and  heaps, 
until  they  broke  and  sought  cover  behind  the  ridge. 
Far  away  across  the  country  the  Hussars  of  Death 
were  flitting  toward  Paris ;  in  the  west,  Issy  spurted 
flame  and  smoke  ;  and  beyond,  in  the  direction  of 
Clamart,  a  great  battle  was  going  on,  for  the  steady 
crash  of  volley  firing  rose  above  the  thunder  of  the 
forts. 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  Turcos,  re 
duced  to  twenty  men,  were  still  holding  out,  but 
they  were  beginning  to  suffer  the  tortures  of  thirst. 
Two  men,  shot  in  the  act  of  lowering  the  bucket  to 
draw  water,  had  fallen  into  the  well  carrying  the 
bucket  with  them.  One  of  them,  still  alive,  was 
clinging  to  some  cranny,  calling  piteously  for  help, 
but  there  was  no  rope  to  lower,  nor  if  there  had  been, 
was  there  any  time  to  lower  it,  for  the  Zouaves 
swarmed  now  about  the  orchard  like  angry  wasps, 
just  outside  of  the  drifting  smoke  and  rifle  flashes, 


SARRE   PAYS  A   DEBT.  341 


only  waiting  for  the  moment  to  break  in  and  hack 
the  life  from  the  last  living  Turco. 

Of  the  two  dozen  who  were  left,  four  held  the 
hedge,  ten  crouched  behind  the  trees,  and  three  or 
four  lurked  about  the  well-curb.  Sometimes  for  ten 
minutes  not  a  shot  would  be  fired  on  either  side 
until  a  gleam  of  red  breeches,  a  twinkle  of  white- 
gaitered  legs,  and  a  loud  cheer  would  bring  each 
Turco  to  his  feet ;  and  then  such  a  cyclone  of  lead 
would  sweep  down  the  orchard  slope,  that  the 
Zouaves  always  halted,  and  deployed  in  open  order, 
firing  instead  of  using  the  bayonet. 

Once,  however,  six  Zouaves  crept  up  under  cover 
of  the  smoke  and  started  cautiously  across  the 
northern  angle  of  the  orchard,  but  before  they  had 
gone  ten  paces  they  stumbled  over  McBarron,  Con 
Daily,  Philip,  Sarre,  and  two  other  Turcos,  who  had 
left  the  trees  and  were  making  for  a  spring  in  the 
meadow  behind  the  house.  Sarre  clutched  a  Zouave 
by  his  blue  sash  and  cut  his  throat  before  he  could 
scream.  Con  Daily  knocked  another's  skull  in  with 
the  butt  of  his  rifle,  McBarron  bayoneted  two  more, 
and  another  was  shot  in  the  stomach  by  Sarre. 
Philip  was  not  pressed  so  he  did  not  fire  until  the 
last  Zouave  suddenly  sprang  on  him  with  an  un 
earthly  yell  and  seized  him  by  the  hair.  Then 
Philip  caught  him  around  the  waist  and  bent  him 
back  until  his  muscles  cracked,  and  Sarre  deliberately 
ran  him  through  the  neck  with  his  sticky  sabre.  The 
Zouave  fell  a  dead  weight  in  Philip's  arms,  writhed  a 
moment  on  the  young  grass,  then,  as  Sarre  struck 
him  savagely  over  the  temple  with  the  butt  of  his 
revolver,  he  quivered  and  died. 


342  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"Curse  them,  the  slinking  wolves!"  muttered 
Sarre,  glancing  toward  the  ridge  ;  "  we  have  n't  time 
to  get  to  the  spring — no  by  God !  for  here  they  come  ! 
Look  out !  " 

The  Zouaves  were  upon  the  hedge  before  Sarre 
could  reach  the  well-curb,  and  this  time  they  went 
through  it,  beat  out  the  brains  or  butchered  with 
their  bayonets  every  Turco  behind  it,  and  swept  on 
toward  the  orchard.  Here,  however,  they  were  met 
with  a  scorching  fire,  and  they  fell  back  to  the 
shelter  of  the  hedge. 

Then  Sarre  led  his  fourteen  men  into  the  stone 
house,  for  he  knew  the  jig  was  up  and  they  could  only 
die  like  rats  in  their  corners,  fighting  to  the  last. 

The  house,  a  two-storied  building,  was  deserted. 
McBarron,  Daily,  and  Philip  were  posted  in  the  bed 
room  which  commanded  the  orchard  and  well,  while 
the  others  piled  chests,  armoires,  and  beds  against 
the  single  door,  and  stuffed  every  window  with  pil 
lows,  mattresses,  and  bedclothes.  Sarre  nosed  about 
for  something  to  drink,  but  found  nothing,  not  even 
a  drop  of  water. 

"  Here  !  "  he  cried,  "  we  've  got  to  have  water — 
who  will  volunteer  for  the  spring?  Here  are  three 
buckets! — come  now,  three  men  of  good  will!  " 

"  I  '11  go,"  said  McBarron,  quietly,  looking  down 
over  the  banisters. 

"  Good  !  "  growled  Sarre,  "  who  next  ?  " 

"  I  have  two  comrades  up  here, — they  will  go," 
replied  McBarron  ;  "  send  up  three  men  to  watch  the 
orchard  and  we  can  drop  out  of  the  back  window." 

Sarre  nodded,  detailed  three  men  to  mount  the 


SARRE  PA  YS  A   DEBT.  343 


stairs  to  hold  the  bedroom  window,  and  sent  the 
buckets  up  by  them.  McBarron  handed  Philip  and 
Daily  each  a  bucket,  slung  his  rifle  across  his  shoul 
ders,  stepped  to  the  rear  window,  and  opened  it. 
Then  he  quietly  dropped  to  the  ledge,  rested  his 
feet  on  the  shutter  below,  and  sprang  lightly  into 
the  kitchen  garden.  Daily  and  Philip  followed  him, 
and  in  a  moment  they  were  creeping  through  the 
overgrown  gully  which  had  been  used  as  a  drain, 
toward  the  little  spring  in  the  meadow  below.  The 
drain  led  to  a  deep  ditch  which  wound  through  the 
meadow  and  received  the  tiny  stream  of  water  from 
the  spring.  In  single  file,  bent  nearly  double,  they 
crept  along  until  they  came  to  a  rivulet  which  flowed 
into  the  drain  from  the  spring  above. 

"  This  will  do, — we  can't  crawl  over  to  the  spring, 
that  's  certain,"  said  McBarron,  and  tipped  the  edge 
of  his  pail  under  the  rivulet.  Daily  and  Philip  drank 
their  fill,  and  when  McBarron's  bucket  was  full  they 
shoved  theirs  under  the  little  stream  of  water  while 
McBarron  peered  through  the  weeds  and  dried  brush- 
heaps  toward  the  orchard. 

"  They  are  keeping  very  quiet,"  he  said. 

Daily  picked  up  his  pail  which  was  full  and 
started  toward  the  house. 

"  Wait  for  me  !  "  said  Philip,  who  had  just  placed 
his  pail  under  the  stream  of  water. 

"  No,  Con  Daily  and  I  had  better  go  back  and  get 
these  buckets  hoisted  up  safe  while  we  can.  You 
can't  tell, — waiting  for  you  might  delay  us  a  second 

too  long.  They  're  keeping  so  d n  quiet  in  the 

orchard  that  there  must  be  something  up." 


344  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"Then  am  I  to  follow  you  as  soon  as  I  get  this 
filled,  or  shall  I  wait  until  you  come  back  for  more  ?  " 

"  We  've  wather  enough  !  "  said  Daily,"  come  when 
ye're  tin  's  full, — we  '11  pull  ye  up,  me  cherub  b'y." 

Philip  sat  down  while  his  pail  was  filling  and 
watched  his  two  comrades  creeping  through  the 
drain.  When  they  reached  the  kitchen  garden  they 
crossed  it  to  the  house  and  looked  up  at  the  window. 
Presently  a  Turco's  head  was  thrust  out,  and  in  a 
moment  more  Daily  had  climbed  to  McBarron's 
shoulders  and  was  lifting  his  pail  to  the  man  at  the 
window.  Then  a  rifle  cracked,  and  a  puff  of  smoke 
shot  from  a  tuft  of  dead  weed-stalks  in  the  open 
meadow.  McBarron  reeled  and  fell  against  the  stone 
side  of  the  house  and  Daily  tumbled  to  the  ground, 
his  bucket  of  water  splashing  all  over  him.  In  a 
second  the  Turco  at  the  window  whipped  his  piece 
to  his  shoulder  and  fired,  and  an  answering  bullet 
sped  from  the  tuft  of  weeds.  McBarron  threw  up 
his  hands  and  stumbled  forward  on  his  face.  Daily 
was  on  his  feet  like  a  cat,  and,  unslinging  his  rifle, 
blazed  away  at  the  hidden  sharpshooter,  but  again 
the  tongue  of  flame  leaped  from  the  weed  cover, 
and  Con  Daily  whirled  around  on  his  heels  and 
pitched  headlong  into  the  ditch. 

The  water  in  Philip's  bucket  was  running  over 
now  but  he  did  n't  see  it.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on 
that  tuft  of  weeds.  After  a  moment  he  saw  a 
Zouave  cautiously  rise  to  his  knees  and  creep  up 
toward  the  house.  Then  other  figures  bobbed  up 
all  over  the  meadow ;  every  hillock,  every  ditch, 
held  its  man ;  and  now  the  orchard,  the  hedge-row*. 


SARRE  PAYS  A    DEBT.  345 


the  fields  were  swarming  with  red-legged  Zouaves 
all  moving  silently  and  swiftly  on  the  stone  house. 
The  farm  was  completely  surrounded,  and  Philip  saw 
that  he  was  already  far  in  the  rear  of  the  advancing 
Zouaves. 

The  first  thought  that  came  to  him  was  that  he 
must  return  and  share  the  fortune  of  his  battalion. 
This  was  mere  instinct,  and  the  next  moment  he 
knew  that  he  owed  nothing  to  his  battalion,  and  his 
debt  to  his  Colonel  could  only  be  paid  in  bullets. 
But  although  he  felt  that  now  at  last  he  was  out  of 
the  clutches  of  the  Commune,  his  sympathies, 
strangely  enough,  were  with  the  little  garrison  in 
that  stone  house  ;  for  they  had  been  his  companions 
in  danger,  and  now  they  were  about  to  die.  He  did 
not  think  of  escape  for  the  moment,  nor  yet  of  his 
own  personal  safety.  He  crouched  in  the  ditch 
watching  those  closing  lines  of  scarlet.  Would  the 
Zouaves  take  the  house  by  storm?  Ah?  he  under 
stood  now,  for  the  red  lines  had  halted  and  a  sec 
tion  of  a  light  battery  trotted  across  the  meadow 
toward  a  ridge  half  sheltered  by  the  orchard.  An 
officer  who  sat  his  horse  beautifully  was  directing 
the  two  guns,  and  his  indifference  to  the  frenzied 
volleys  from  the  windows  of  the  farm  nearly  cost 
him  his  life,  for  his  horse  sank  under  him  and  he 
was  pulled  to  his  feet  by  a  Zouave,  who  himself  fell 
a  second  later.  But  now  the  guns  were  in  position 
and  the  signal  was  given. 

"No.  i,  fire!"     Bang! 

"  No.  2,  fire  !  "     Bang  !     Crash  ! 

The  house,  for  a  moment  enveloped  in  dust,  tot- 


346  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

tered,  then  simply  crumbled  to  the  ground,  and  a 
dozen  Turcos  tumbled  out  like  rats  from  a  sack. 
But  the  Zouaves  were  upon  them  and  they  died 
hard,  fighting  to  the  end.  Philip  saw  Sarre  strike 
down  three  Zouaves,  then  stagger  about  as  though 
dazed,  until  a  sabre  -  bayonet  pinned  him  to  the 
earth.  And  that  was  the  end ;  for  the  ist  Paris 
Turcos  had  been,  with  the  exception  of  Weser's 
fifth  company,  and  possibly  fifty  stragglers  from 
Bas-Meudon  woods,  absolutely  wiped  off  the  face  of 
the  earth. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THE    WHITE  ROAD. 

PHILIP'S  pail  was  running  over  and  the  cool 
water  soaked  his  shoes.  Scarcely  knowing 
what  he  did,  he  dropped  to  his  knees,  thrust 
his  face  into  the  bucket,  drank  long  and  deep,  then 
bathed  his  hot  face  and  neck.  Then  he  laid  his  rifle 
and  bayonet  beside  the  pail,  rose  to  his  feet,  bending 
low,  and  started  to  follow  the  ditch  across  the  fields 
to  where  the  Paris  military  road  wound  like  a  white 
ribbon  in  the  distance.  He  intended  to  get  back  to 
the  city  because  the  Versaillists,  under  Thiers,  had 
started  to  out-Nero  Nero ;  and,  although  he  had 
recognized  in  the  officer  who  commanded  the  bat 
tery  section  Alain  de  Carette,  the  ferocious  butchery 
by  the  Zouaves  had  sickened  him,  and  he  almost 
hated  the  Versailles  troops  as  much  as  he  did  the 
Federals.  To  run  to  Alain  in  his  uniform  of  a 
Turco  and  cry,  "  I  am  innocent,"  might  possibly  be 
practicable,  but  if  he  should  happen  to  meet  a 
Zouave  on  the  way,  Philip  knew  that  killing  would 
come  first  and  questions  afterwards.  And  now 
Alain  de  Carette  had  ridden  away  with  his  guns  and 
the  Zouaves  were  leaving  a  guard  about  the  house, 
while  the  main  body  had  already  moved  out  toward 
the  Clamart  road,  where,  above  the  trees,  the  smoke 

•J47 


348  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


rolled  up  from  Clamart  village,  and  the  distant  bel 
low  of  cannon  told  a  tale  of  fierce  and  stubborn 
fighting. 

The  ditch  grew  deeper  and  broader  as  it  ap 
proached  the  Paris  route.  Philip  followed  it  slowly, 
for  the  drain  was  full  of  briers  and  puddles  of  water. 
Three  times  he  was  obliged  to  creep  on  his  stomach 
through  long  stone  culverts  partially  choked  with 
weeds.  Once,  on  emerging  from  a  culvert,  he  had 
to  crawl  over  an  obstruction  which  proved  to  be  a 
corpse.  The  dead  man  lay  face  downwards  in  the 
mud,  and  as  Philip  stumbled  on,  shuddering,  sleek 
brown  river  rats  scuttled  away  through  the  under 
growth  on  either  side. 

When  at  last  he  reached  the  culvert  that  tunnelled 
the  Paris  route,  he  ventured  to  raise  his  head  above 
the  edge  of  the  ditch  and  look  back  across  the  plain. 
Two  miles  away  the  ruins  of  the  stone  farm-house 
lay  white  in  the  sunshine  beside  the  orchard,  and  far 
beyond,  the  smoke  of  the  battle  hung  like  a  huge 
mushroom  over  the  trees  which  hid  Clamart  village. 
On  the  slopes  of  Bas-Meudon  he  could  see  the 
sparkle  of  sunlight  on  bayonets,  but,  except  for 
that,  and  a  single  dark  square  patch  on  the  hillside 
which  he  knew  to  be  troops  in  motion,  the  imme 
diate  vicinity  appeared  to  be  safe  enough.  He  sup 
posed  that  the  ditch  ran  down  to  the  Seine  not  far 
beyond  the  Paris  route,  so  he  crouched  again,  wrig 
gled  through  the  culvert,  and  started  on.  The  river 
was  nearer  than  he  had  thought  it  could  be,  for  ten 
minutes  more  brought  him  to  the  muddy  bank.  But 
before  he  had  time  to  pull  himself  out  of  the  mud 


THE    WHITE   ROAD.  349 


and  climb  to  the  field  above,  a  voice  hailed  him 
harshly,  and  a  gaunt  creature  sprang  upon  him,  cry 
ing:  "Halt!  halt!"  He  looked  up.  A  Hussar  of 
Death  was  covering  him  with  a  revolver.  He  was 
safe  at  last !  To  his  tired  hot  eyes  the  man  clothed 
in  his  fantastic  uniform  seemed  an  angel  of  mercy. 
The  Hussar  of  Death  eyed  him  for  an  instant, 
slowly  lowered  his  revolver,  and  burst  into  a  horrible 
silent  laugh.  Philip  crept  out  of  the  ditch  and 
stumbled  to  his  feet  beside  the  trooper. 

"I  am  the  last  of  the  battalion,"  he  said,  wearily, 
— "  the  Colonel  and  the  rest  lie  yonder.  Can  I  get 
across  the  river?" 

The  hussar  turned  and  pointed  through  the  trees 
to  a  pontoon  bridge  below  them.  "  There  is  time," 
he  croaked,  and  Philip  hurried  on. 

When  he  reached  the  bridge,  a  company  of  Fed 
erals  were  beginning  to  dismantle  it,  but  they  drew 
aside  to  let  him  pass,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  had 
reached  the  other  bank,  and  stood  safe  and  sound, 
but  tired  and  feverish  and  terribly  footsore.  He 
saw  a  group  of  houses,  red-roofed  and  stucco-walled, 
on  the  bank  above,  and  when  he  had  climbed  up  to 
them  he  found  himself  in  a  tiny  village.  The  village 
was  occupied  by  Federal  infantry,  and  the  single 
street  was  full  of  officers,  who  stared  at  him  very 
hard  as  he  passed.  One  of  the  houses  seemed  to  be 
the  headquarters  of  some  general,  for  aides  were 
passing  in  and  out,  sentinels  patrolled  the  garden, 
and  the  horses  of  an  escort  stood  patiently  in  the 
shade  of  a  budding  chestnut  tree  by  the  garden  wall. 

As  he  passed  the  gate  a  trooper  ran  up  behind  him 


350  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


and  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder.  "  The  General 
wants  to  see  you,  comrade,"  he  said. 

"  What  General  ?  "  said  Philip,  nervously. 

"  General  Dombrowski." 

"  What  for  ?  "  demanded  Philip. 

"  Now  I  don't  know — how  should  I  ?  He  heard 
that  a  Turco  had  come  in  and  Colonel  Wilton  sent 
me  to  find  you." 

At  the  name  of  Wilton,  Philip  turned  away 
sharply. 

"  You  'd  better  come,"  suggested  the  soldier,  fin 
gering  his  rifle.  A  group  of  soldiers  and  officers  had 
formed  around  them  and  Philip  saw  that  he  could 
not  hesitate  any  longer ;  but,  as  he  made  a  motion 
to  follow  the  soldier,  the  group  parted  and  a  gray- 
haired  officer  who  held  himself  very  erect  stepped 
into  the  circle,  followed  by  a  file  of  brilliantly  uni 
formed  aides-de-camp.  It  was  General  Dombrowski. 

"Are  you  from  Colonel  Sarre's  battalion?"  he 
asked  pleasantly. 

Philip  saluted  respectfully.  "  I  am,  mon  G£n6- 
ral." 

"  Where  is  Colonel  Sarre?  " 

"  Dead,  General." 

"When?" 

"  An  hour  ago." 

"  And  the  battalion  ?  " 

"  Exterminated." 

"In  Meudon?" 

"  Partly  in  Bas-Meudon  woods,  partly  while  re 
treating.  We  held  the  stone  farm  and  the  orchard 
on  the  Clamart  route  until  they  brought  cannon. 


THE    WHITE  ROAD.  351 


We  left  Bas-Meudon  woods  with  two  hundred  men  ; 
we  reached  the  farm  with  fifty.  They  are  all 
dead." 

"All?" 

"  All — except  Captain  Weser's  men." 

General  Dombrowski  stood  silent  and  thoughtful 
for  a  moment,  then  his  short  military  figure  straight 
ened  up  and  he  looked  kindly  at  Philip. 

"  How  did  you  escape,  mon  enfant?  " 

Philip  told  him  very  simply. 

"  And  you  say  that  it  was  the  Zouaves  who  did 
this  shocking  business  ?  " 

"  The  Zouaves  of  Charette." 

Angry  murmurs  began  to  rise  from  the  crowd 
around  them  :  "  The  butchers  !  So  Thiers  gives  no 
quarter !  We  will  remember  the  Zouaves  of  Cha 
rette  !  " 

At  a  signal  from  Dombrowski  an  officer  sum 
moned  the  escort — a  troop  of  Polish  cavalry, — and 
a  moment  later  the  General's  horse  and  the  horses 
of  the  staff  were  brought  out,  girths  tightened,  and 
the  order  given  to  mount.  The  crowd  parted,  the 
cavalcade  trotted  away  toward  the  river  bank,  and 
Philip  started  on  trudging  wearily  to  Paris.  As  he 
passed  into  the  village  street  a  woman  dressed  in 
the  regimental  uniform  of  a  Vivandiere  stepped  to 
his  side. 

"  Citizen,"  she  said,  "  you  need  food  and  drink." 

Philip  turned  slowly  and  looked  her  in  the  face. 
It  was  Faustine  Courtois.  Her  face  was  expression 
less,  but  her  eyes  were  soft  and  pitiful.  Very  gently 
she  slipped  a  loaf  of  bread,  a  piece  of  beef,  and  a 


352  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


bottle  of  red  wine  into  his  empty  haversack,  still 
walking  along  beside  him. 

"  Comrade,  you  Ve  caught  our  pretty  Vivan- 
diere  !  "  cried  a  soldier,  laughing.  Philip  turned 
instantly  to  Faustine  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Thank  you,  citoyenne,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"God  bless  you,  comrade!"  she  murmured  ;  then 
with  a  quick  military  salute  she  stood  still,  and  he 
walked  on  alone. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  threw  himself  down  beside 
the  white  military  road  and  emptied  his  haversack 
on  the  grass.  A  clear  stream  gurgled  under  a  little 
stone  bridge  that  spanned  the  road  below  him.  He 
washed  the  grime  from  his  face  and  hands  and  fell 
to.  He  had  not  eaten  since  that  hasty  gammel  of 
soup  on  the  fortifications  before  daylight  and,  tired 
as  he  was,  he  devoured  his  bread  and  meat,  and 
drank  his  red  wine  with  a  keen  relish.  Then  he  lay 
back  against  the  trunk  of  a  chestnut  tree  and  looked 
across  to  where  the  walls  of  Paris  were  in  plain  view. 
He  was  not  sleepy,  but  repose  was  delicious.  Before 
him  the  road  wound  away  toward  the  city,  passing 
by  two  hamlets  nestling  among  groves  of  sycamore 
and  chestnut,  then  curved  out  by  the  Point-du-Jour 
through  earthworks  and  rows  of  tents  until  it  en 
tered  the  city  gate  under  the  granite  fortifications. 
As  far  as  he  could  see,  the  white  road  was  deserted, 
except  by  two  quarrelling  magpies.  The  magpies 
were  disputing  noisily.  They  hopped  and  bounded 
and  flittered  here  and  there,  flirting  their  black  and 
white  wings  viciously,  cocking  their  impudent  bright 
eyes,  and  piling  insult  upon  insult,  until  Philip,  deadly 


THE    WHITE  ROAD.  353 


weary  of  noise  and  fighting,  closed  his  eyes,  hoping 
they  would  carry  their  war  into  another  region.  A 
few  moments  later  he  opened  his  eyes  to  see  if  they 
were  gone.  Both  birds  were  still  in  the  road,  but  they 
had  become  strangely  silent.  He  soon  discovered  the 
cause  of  this.  A  common  danger  threatened  them. 
A  large  cat,  belly  flattened  to  the  ground,  was  stalk 
ing  the  birds.  They  saw  her.  She  crept  nearer  and 
nearer,  eyes  glowing,  body  flat  as  a  serpent's  ;  then 
gathering  herself  together  she  crouched,  trembling, 
for  the  final  spring.  At  that  moment  both  birds 
burst  into  screams  of  mockery  and  derision  and 
flitted  away  over  the  fields  toward  a  distant  dead 
tree.  Slowly  the  cat  turned  her  head,  watching  them 
until  they  disappeared  across  the  meadow,  then  she 
crept  up  to  where  they  had  sat  in  the  road,  sniffed 
about,  and  finally  rose  with  a  disgusted  jerk  of  her 
tail.  A  moment  later  she  turned  like  a  flash,  for 
Philip  had  sprung  to  his  feet  and  stood  staring  at 
her,  rubbing  his  eyes  violently.  At  that  instant  a 
solitary  figure  came  into  view  around  the  curve  in 
the  road, — a  woman  who  walked  slowly  and  listlessly 
with  bared  head  bent. 

"  Tcherka  !  "  cried  Philip. 

The  cat  trotted  toward  him,  hoisting  a  gorgeous 
crimson  tail  and  making  pleased  observations  rap 
idly.  The  woman  started  and  raised  her  head  with 
a  gesture  of  terror,  but  when  he  jumped  down  the 
bank  and  sprang  tov/ard  her  she  threw  out  her  hands, 
with  a  soft  cry,  and  in  a  moment  more  his  arms 
were  around  her  and  her  face  lay  against  his. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

COMMISSIONS  FOR  TWO. 

THE  sun  was  sinking  into  the  battle  smoke  be 
yond  Clamart  village.  High  in  the  zenith 
the  new  moon  hung,  a  faint  crescent  in  the 
rosy,  evening  sky.  The  rumble  of  war  had  died  away 
in  the  west,  but  still  from  the  south  deep  muffled 
intonations  were  borne  on  the  spring  winds,  and 
strangely  shaped  battle  clouds  climbed  above  the 
horizon.  The  country  around  was  quiet  and  peace 
ful  ;  the  solemn  notes  of  the  cannon  grew  less  and 
less  frequent,  and  the  awful  voice  of  Mont-Val6rien 
was  stilled. 

Jeanne  de  Brassac,  smiling  and  happy,  sat  under 
a  tree  in  the  meadow  above  the  Paris  road.  Philip 
lay  at  her  feet,  his  chin  on  his  hands,  his  scarlet  fez 
pushed  back  on  his  forehead.  Tcherka  was  hunting 
field-mice.  If  her  success  had  been  in  proportion  to 
her  enthusiasm,  the  field-mouse  would  have  become 
extinct  in  France.  From  an  oak  tree  near  by  two 
magpies  jeered  at  her  efforts  until  a  small  hedge- 
sparrow  aroused  their  ire  and  they  disappeared  in 
headlong  chase. 

Philip  and  Jeanne  had  not  said  much  after  their 
meeting.  The  swift  clasp  and  clinging  caress  left 
one  of  them  happy  and  thoughtful,  and  the  other 


COMMISSIONS  FOR    TWO.  355 


dazed.  It  had  happened  so  suddenly, — neither  was 
conscious  of  anything  except  that  heart-sick  terror 
was  gone  and  a  dear  face  was  there,  unchanged. 
Very  sweetly  she  clung  to  him,  now  quiet  and  hope 
ful,  with  his  strong  arm  clasping  her  waist,  and  his 
firm,  young  hand  holding  both  of  hers.  That  she 
herself  was  safe  now  did  not  occur  to  her  at  first. 
She  only  thought,  "  Philip  is  alive, — Philip  is  unhurt, 
here  by  my  side."  Of  course,  she  was  safe  enough 
now.  Was  not  Philip  there  ?  Did  anything  ever 
stand  against  Philip  ?  A  moment  before,  she  had 
been  walking  on  the  white  military  road,  alone,  pen 
niless,  not  knowing,  nor,  for  that  matter,  thinking, 
where  she  might  lay  her  head  at  night ;  it  was  the 
load  of  deadly  foreboding  for  Philip  which  weighted 
her  young  breast  and  bowed  her  head  until  her  mind 
grew  numb  with  hopeless  misery.  Her  future  seemed 
one  long  vista,  dull  and  blank  and  full  of  sorrow.  A 
second  had  changed  all  that, — the  sound  of  a  voice, 
a  swift  step,  a  strong  arm  about  her, — ah,  yes,  one 
glance  into  the  dear  eyes ! — and  sorrow  and  trouble 
had  vanished  like  broken  bubbles. 

They  had  told  each  other  their  little  tales  of  danger 
and  mischance,  but  already,  in  her  presence,  the 
dangers  which  lay  behind  him  seemed  so  far  away 
and  so  insignificant  that  his  story  was  finished  in  a 
dozen  words.  Hers  he  listened  to  silently,  touched 
to  the  quick  by  her  low  voice. 

"  But,  Jeanne,  how  came  you  to  be  in  the  garden 
at  that  hour?" 

"  I  could  not  sleep ;  " — after  a  pause  she  added, 
"  because  of  you." 


THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

Philip  lay  perfectly  still,  his  chin  on  his  hands,  his 
eyes  fixed  on  hers.  She  met  his  gaze  with  one,  clear 
and  serene,  yet  very  sweet  and  wistful.  He  came 
and  knelt  at  her  feet.  She  placed  her  white  hands 
on  his  shoulders,  innocently,  tenderly.  How  deep 
her  violet  eyes  were  above  her  white  cheeks  !  He 
bit  his  lip  and  trembled  with  the  agony  of  silence, 
but  he  would  not  speak.  Oh,  he  had  fought  the 
battle  with  himself  again  and  again.  He  knew — he 
never  tried  to  disguise  from  himself — that  to  speak 
to  her  of  love  while  she  was  helplessly  dependent 
on  his  protection  would  be  dishonorable.  And 
his  love,  passionate,  almost  fierce  as  it  was  at  times 
from  restraint,  had  never  yet  mastered  his  will.  But 
her  innocent  tenderness,  her  open,  fond  affection, 
together  with  the  joy  of  finding  her,  were  straining 
his  powers  of  self-control  to  their  utmost. 

"  Marguerite,"  she  began  again  in  her  low,  thrill 
ing  voice,  still  keeping  her  hands  on  Philip's  shoul 
ders,  "  Marguerite  thinks  I  am  nothing  but  a  child — 
and  perhaps  she  is  right.  But  I  did  not  feel  like  a 
child  when  I  was  weeping  for  you  last  night  in  our 
garden, — and  I  said  then  that  if  God  would  let  me 
see  you  once  more  I  would  tell  you  that — oh, 
Philip  ! — there  is  no  one  in  all  the  world  whom  I 
love  as  I  do  you." 

He  bent  his  head, — a  single  bright  drop  of  blood 
fell  from  his  lips  on  the  grass.  He  strove  after  the 
right,  safe  words  to  answer.  She  took  her  hands 
from  his  shoulders.  He  looked  up  and  saw  her  draw 
ing  back,  bewildered,  dismayed  at  his  silence,  and  he 
cried  out :  "  Jeanne  !  don't  you  understand  ! — I  al- 


COMMISSIONS  FOR    TWO.  357 


ways  loved  you — always! — from  the  moment,  on  that 
Christmas  eve,  when  I  first  saw  you,  a  mere  child  ; 
from  that  moment  your  face  has  haunted  me — your 
voice,  your  eyes,  your  hair,  your  hands  ; — I  love 
you  so  much  and  so  truly  that  I  have  tried  to  be 
silent.  Oh,  Jeanne, — I  have  tried  !  I  did  not  mean 
to  take  advantage  of  my  guardianship — I  never 
meant  to  violate  that  trust ;  and  now  I  have  failed  ; 
whether  because  I  loved  you  too  much,  or  too  little, 
I  do  not  know — but  this  I  know,  that  your  affection 
for  me  is  returned  as  purely,  as  innocently  as  it  is 
given.  And  some  day,  if  God  is  merciful  and  keeps 
you  safe,  I  shall  come  to  you,  among  your  own 
people,  and  offer  you  myself,  my  life,  all  I  am  or 
hope  to  be  ; — you  will  listen  then,  Jeanne  ?  " 

Almost  humbly  she  answered,  recognizing  and 
worshipping  the  ardor,  the  vital  force  which  she  did 
not  yet  understand  : 

"  You  must  teach  me  how  to  listen,  Philip." 

He  took  her  hand  and  kissed  it,  trembling. 

"I  will  teach  you, — Jeanne — and — and  I  will  wait!" 

They  stood  up  together,  a  little  dazed,  as  Tcherka 
came  trotting  up. 

"  Here  's  Tcherka,  blessed  cat !  "  said  Philip,  smil 
ing  with  an  effort. 

Jeanne  mechanically  stooped  to  caress  her. 

"  Jeanne,"  said  Philip,  mischievously,  "  say 
Toodles ! " 

"  loo-dells,  Monsieur  !  "  cried  Jeanne,  indignantly. 
"  But  I  should  like  to  know,  if  you  please,  where  you 
are  going  to  take  me.  Do  you  see  it  is  almost  dark  ? 
— and  the  gates  at  the  Point-du-Jour  will  be  closed." 


THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 

"  I  have  been  thinking,"  he  answered,  with  a 
secret  thrill  in  her  perfect  trust,  "  that  perhaps  it  is 
as  well  that  we  can't  get  into  Paris  just  yet,  until 
we  hear  the  result  of  the  battle.  And  I  don't  like 
to  take  you  back  to  the  little  village  ;  it  's  full  of 
Federals.  I  see  the  roof  of  a  farm-house  a  few  steps 
beyond  the  curve  of  the  road  there.  You  must  have 
passed  it  in  coming." 

"  I  did  ;  a  young  man  came  to  the  hedge  and 
called  after  me  as  I  passed.  I  did  not  understand 
what  he  said,  and  I  kept  on  without  replying.  Shall 
we  go  and  see  if  we  can  get  shelter  there  ?  I  am 
very  hungry." 

"  Yes,  we  '11  try  it.     Hungry  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  have  not  eaten  since  early  this  morning 
on  the  fortifications.  Madame  Cartier,  your  poor 
captain's  mother,  gave  me  some  breakfast." 

"What,  Jeanne?" 

"  Not  much,"  she  admitted  ;  "  a  glass  of  wine, — 
some  bread.  She  had  to  force  me  to  eat  it.  She 
was  very  good  to  me — 

"  And  you  Ve  eaten  nothing  since  that,  and  now 
it  is  almost  night  !  " 

Making  her  sit  down  again  he  pulled  the  provi 
sions  from  his  haversack,  constructed  a  sandwich 
from  the  bread  and  beef,  opened  the  bottle,  and 
handed  her  a  tin  cup.  With  a  gay  laugh  she  bit  a 
piece  as  best  she  could  out  of  the  sandwich,  and 
soon  held  up  the  cup  to  be  filled.  The  wine  ran 
out.  "Why,  Philip,  there  is  a  hole  in  the  cup!  — 
it  's  a  bullet  hole,"  she  added  quietly. 

"  Oh,  yes — I  forget — well — you  '11  have  to  drink 


COMMISSIONS  FOR    TWO.  359 


out  of  the  bottle  then.  I  '11  hold  it."  She  put  up 
her  pretty  mouth,  and  he  tipped  the  bottle,  as  he 
thought  with  great  dexterity,  until  she  waved  the 
sandwich  for  him  to  take  it  away  again. 

"  Oh,  dear  me,"  she  gasped,  "  what  a  perfectly 
untidy  person  I  shall  be  !  Look  where  the  wine  has 
dripped  !  " 

"  Look  at  my  uniform  \—you  need  not  feel  em 
barrassed  !  " 

"  My  handkerchief  is  all  wine — lend  me  yours," 
she  implored. 

"  I  wish  I  had  one,"  he  said  pathetically  ;  "  will 
this  do  ?  "  and  he  cut  off  a  piece  of  his  red  sash. 
She  took  it  laughingly,  and  begged  him  to  give 
Tcherka  some  more  meat. 

"  She  shall  have  woodcock  on  toast  some  day," 
said  Philip.  "  Did  n't  she  bring  you  to  me  ?  " 

"The  darling!  "  cried  Jeanne  ;  "  cut  the  meat  up 
fine,  Philip." 

When  Tcherka  had  finished  Philip  picked  her  up 
and  they  descended  the  bank  to  the  wood,  and 
walked  toward  the  red-roofed  farm-house  which 
stood  just  beyond  the  curve.  When  they  reached 
the  gate  and  entered  the  gravel  path  that  led  to  the 
door,  a  young  man  came  out  carrying  a  lantern  and 
a  set  of  harness.  He  looked  sharply  at  them, 
raising  the  lantern  above  his  head. 

"  Good-evening,  citizen,"  said  Philip  ;  "  can  we 
get  a  bowl  of  soup  and  shelter  here  for  to-night?" 

"  Can  you  pay  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

Philip  was  silent.     He  had  n't  a  sou. 

"  I  have  a  watch,"  whispered  Jeanne. 


360  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Philip  nodded.  "  Yes,  we  can  pay,  citizen,"  he  said. 

The  man  hesitated.  "  I  shall  have  two  officers 
here  to  dinner,"  he  said,  after  a  moment  ;  "  I  can 
get  you  a  bowl  of  soup  before  they  come." 

"All  right — we  won't  keep  them  from  the  table," 
replied  Philip. 

The  man  pointed  to  the  door.  "  The  table  is 
there.  I  must  harness  my  horse  first.  Go  in."  He 
turned  away  toward  the  stable,  and  Philip  and 
Jeanne  walked  into  the  cottage.  In  the  room  on 
the  ground  floor  a  table  stood  by  the  fireplace. 
Philip  drew  two  chairs  beside  it  and  they  sat  down 
to  wait.  In  a  few  minutes  the  man  reappeared  out 
side,  leading  a  horse  attached  to  a  dog-cart.  He  set 
down  his  lantern,  hitched  the  horse  to  the  hedge  in 
the  garden,  and  then  entered  the  cottage. 

"  I  hope  we  do  not  inconvenience  you  too  much, 
Monsieur,"  said  Jeanne,  politely. 

She  had  made  a  bad  mistake.  Philip  saw  it  in 
stantly.  "Monsieur"  was  obsolete  in  the  Com 
mune's  vocabulary  ;  "  citizen  "  was  the  shibboleth. 

The  man  turned  slowly  toward  her  ;  his  narrow 
eyes  glittered. 

"  No,  Madame"  he  said,  "  you  do  not  inconven 
ience  me." 

The  soup,  in  two  earthen  bowls,  was  hot  and  nour 
ishing.  It  was  what  they  both  needed.  The  man  sat 
down  beside  Philip  and  glanced  over  his  uniform. 

"  You  are  one  of  Colonel  Sarre's  Turcos,  citizen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  citizen." 

"  You  were  peppered  ?  " 

"  Passably  well  peppered." 


COMMISSIONS  FOR    TWO.  361 

"  They  say  Flourens  is  killed." 

"  He  's  not  the  only  one  then." 

"  No,  no,  not  the  only  one,"  said  the  man,  stealing 
a  glance  at  Jeanne.  Philip  watched  him  without 
seeming  to  do  so. 

"  They  say  Dombrowski  is  at  the  village  yonder," 
said  the  man  again. 

"  Yes.  I  have  the  honor  of  accompanying  the 
citizen  General,"  replied  Philip. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  man,  more  respectfully,  "  are  you 
the  Turco  he  has  as  ordonnance  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Philip,  lying  deliberately.  The  man 
cast  another  swift  glance  at  Jeanne,  and  then  rose 
and  beckoned  Philip  to  follow. 

"  Here,  citizen,"  said  the  man,  as  they  entered  the 
small  room  beyond,  which  was  filled  with  farming 
implements  and  garden  tools,  "  just  oblige  me  by 
reading  that,"  and  he  pointed  to  a  new  placard 
pasted  on  the  bare  wall. 

It  was  the  placard  offering  a  reward  for  "  les  nom- 
mes  Landes  and  Ellice,"  and  for  the  "  Citoyennes 
de  Brsfssac  and  de  St.  Brieuc."  The  man  pointed 
eagerly  to  the  description  of  Jeanne.  His  narrow 
eyes  sparkled. 

"  The  powder  has  almost  blinded  me,  citizen, — 
read  it  aloud,"  said  Philip.  As  the  man  stepped 
forward  and  began  to  read  in  a  low  voice,  Philip 
picked  up  a  wooden  mallet  from  the  bench  behind 
him  and  quietly  examined  the  head.  The  man  fin 
ished  and  turned  to  him  eagerly. 

"  Five  thousand  francs  reward  for  the  woman,"  he 
whispered. 


302  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


"  But  where  is  she?"  demanded  Philip. 

"  In  there  !  Don't  you  see  it  is  the  same  ?  I  saw 
her  coming  along  the  road  two  hours  ago,  and  I 
thought  it  might  be  she,  but  when  I  went  to  find  her 
she  was  gone.  I  sent  my  boy  to  notify  the  village 
yonder  to  watch  out." 

"  But — but  you  would  n't  betray  this  poor  wo 
man — 

"  Bah  !  She  's  an  aristocrat.  And  to  think  you 
did  n't  know  what  sort  of  hussy  you  had  picked  up 
for  a  night's  frolic !  Half  the  reward  is  mine,  com 
rade, — I  only  claim  half — oh  ! — oh  !  mon  Dieu  !  " — 

Twice  Philip  swung  his  mallet  on  the  man's  skull, 
and  now  he  lay  beside  the  rakes  and  shovels  on  the 
damp  floor  of  the  tool-room.  At  the  same  moment 
there  came  heavy  steps  and  the  banging  of  a  sabre 
from  the  court-yard  outside.  With  one  searching 
look  at  the  prostrate  man's  face,  Philip  shut  the 
door,  locked  it,  and  dropping  the  key  into  his  pocket 
entered  the  dining-room.  An  officer  stood,  cap  in 
hand,  bowing  very  politely  to  Jeanne  ;  when  Philip 
entered  he  glanced  at  his  uniform  and  drew  himself 
up  a  little  to  receive  the  expected  salute.  The 
Turco  did  not  salute  in  the  fashion  expected  ;  in 
stead  of  that  he  sprang  toward  the  officer  and  seized 
both  his  hands.  "  Archie  Wilton  !  you  're  a  God 
send  to  me! " 

"  Landes  !  Philip  Landes!  "  cried  Wilton. 

"  Come  here."  Philip  pulled  him  into  the  hall 
way,  opened  the  tool-room,  and  showed  him  the  man 
on  the  floor.  "  I  don't  think  I  've  killed  him,  but  I 
had  to  stop  his  mouth,"  and  he  hurriedly  told  Wilton 


COMMISSIONS  FOR    TWO.  363 


how  it  happened  that  he  was  there  with  Mademoiselle 
de  Brassac,  and  how  helpless  they  were  without 
knowledge  of  the  country  and  in  danger  of  being 
recognized  and  arrested  for  the  reward. 

"  And  I  have  n't  one  sou,  Archie,  not  a  cent  to 
bless  myself " 

Wilton  took  a  full  minute  to  recover  his  faculties. 
Then  he  pulled  out  a  fat  purse  and  handed  it  to  Philip. 
"  Here  !  "  he  said,  with  his  boyish  laugh,  "  I  never 
meet  you  but  you  've  been  punching  somebody's 
head — I  suppose  you  '11  punch  mine  if  I  don't  give 
you  this !  There  's  a  big  roll  of  gold  in  it — I  forget 
how  much." 

"  But  you  '11  need  it." 

"No;  I 'd  only  blow  it  in.     Besides,  I '11  get  more." 

"  You  are  a  good  fellow.  Wilton,"  said  Philip, 
deeply  moved. 

"  All  right.  What  about  the  party  with  the  cracked 
skull  ?  What  will  you  do  with  him  ?  " 

"Gag  him  and  leave  him  here  locked  in?"  sug 
gested  Landes. 

"  No ;  better  have  him  arrested  as  a  suspect,  then 
if  he  does  recover  he  won't  bother  Mademoiselle  de 
Brassac.  I  Ve  an  ordonnance  at  the  gate.  He  '11 
sling  the  fellow  across  his  saddle  and  gallop  him 
into  the  Point-du-Jour." 

They  dragged  the  unconscious  man  through  the 
room  where  Jeanne,  who  had  heard  the  struggle  and 
muffled  cries,  was  standing  pale  and  quiet,  and  at 
the  garden  gate  they  hoisted  their  burden  to  the 
saddle-bow  of  a  trooper  who  sat  unconcerned  on  his 
sweating  horse. 


364  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Picard,  here  's  a  suspect.  Run  him  in  to  Mazas 
by  the  Point-du-Jour,"  said  Wilton.  The  trooper 
saluted,  grasped  the  limp  form  by  the  waistband, 
shook  the  bridle,  and  was  off  along  the  Paris  route. 

"  Seems  a  low-down  trick,"  muttered  Landes, 
looking  after  him.  "  But  it  's  our  lives  or  his — 

"  Yes,  and  it  seems  to  me  he  was  getting  ready 
with  a  trick  of  his  own,"  said  Wilton.  Philip's  face 
hardened  as  he  remembered  how  the  man  had  spoken 
of  Jeanne. 

"  Now  what  in  blazes  can  I  get  as  a  disguise  for 
Mademoiselle  de  Brassac, I  wonder/'pondered  Archie 
— "  and  for  you  too.  If  they  find  you  wandering 
about  in  that  uniform  they  '11  shoot  you  as  a  deserter. 
Look  here, — I  'm  going  back  to  the  village  to  steal 
some  clothes  for  you — I  was  going  to  dine  herewith 
another  officer  but  he  's — er — incapacitated  by  drink 
from  keeping  his  engagement.  He  won't  miss  his 
uniform  at  present,  and  I  '11  borrow  it  for  you.  If 
I  can  find  some  woman's  clothes  I  will.  If  not, 
Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  has  got  to  wear  what  I  can 
find." 

"  Not — not  men's  clothes  !  " 

"  She  can  take  her  choice,"  said  Wilton,  vaulting 
into  the  saddle  ;  "  wear  them  or  run  the  risk  of  get 
ting  caught — and  mighty  soon  too — I  heard  she  had 
been  seen  before  I  came  here— a  boy  brought  the 
news,  and  the  whole  village  will  be  after  that  five 
thousand  francs.  She  's  young  and  slender  and  as 
straight  as  an  arrow,  and  if  she  wears  the  pointed 
hood  and  long  loose  rain  cloak  over  her  cap  and 
uniform  you  know — she  '11  be  invisible, — all  but  her 


COMMISSIONS  FOR    TWO.  365 


boots  and  spurs  and  the  tip  of  her  nose.  You  'd 
better  advise  her  to  accept  it  if  necessary — unless 
you  want  Raoul  Rigault  to  get  her — 

"  She  will  do  so  if  it  is  necessary,"  said  Philip, 
stiffly.  Wilton  wheeled  his  horse.  "  I  '11  be  back 
in  no  time,"  he  called. 

Philip  stood  a  moment  while  he  galloped  off,  then 
turned  and  entered  the  house.  Jeanne  was  standing 
by  the  table  where  he  had  left  her.  When  he  told 
her  what  he  had  done  she  shuddered  a  little.  Then 
there  was  an  awkward  pause. 

"  Will  you  wear  an  officer's  uniform  if  Wilton  can't 
get  anything  better  ?  "  asked  Philip,  flushing  and 
looking  away  from  her. 

"  Of  course  I  will  wear  whatever  you  think  best," 
she  answered  quietly.  "  How  will  the  things 
come  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  replied — and  sat  down  a  little 
apart  from  her,  resting  his  head  on  his  clenched  fist. 
His  face  had  become  grey  and  drawn,  his  eyes  stern 
and  hard.  Tcherka  jumped  on  the  table  and  walked 
over  to  rub  against  his  shoulder.  He  looked  up. 
"  What  shall  we  do  with  the  cat,"  he  said,  irritably, 
"  we  can't  carry  her  about  now." 

"  Could  n't  we  possibly  take  her  along?"  asked 
Jeanne,  timidly. 

"  Really,  Jeanne,"  he  said,  a  little  sharply,  "  you 
can't  expect  me  to  risk  your  life  for  a  cat." 

"  Very  well,"  she  answered  gently,  holding  out 
her  hand  to  Tcherka — who  marched  over  to  her  at 
once.  Jeanne  took  the  cat's  beautiful  head  in  both 
hands  and  kissed  it ;  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes  and 


366  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

she  kept  the  lids  down  so  that  Philip  should  not  see 
them  ;  but  he  saw  them. 

"  Would  n't  it  be  more  merciful  to  shoot  her  than 
to  leave  her?  Soldiers  are  so  cruel,"  asked  Jeanne. 

"  She  shall  come  with  us  for  the  present,"  he  an 
swered  ;  "  we  won't  part  with  her  unless  we  are 
forced  to.  My  dearest  little  Jeanne,  if  you  were 
only  somewhere  safe  I  would  bring  you  your  cat 
through  thick  and  thin,"  he  added,  smiling  sadly. 
"  I  am  so  nervous  on  your  account, — don't  be  hurt 
if  I  am  irritable." 

"  Hurt !  And  you  who  are  thinking  only  of  me, 
never  once  of  yourself !  Is  it  on  my  life  that  the 
price  is  fixed  ?  Could  I  not  buy  my  safety  any 
moment  with  those  miserable  diamonds  ?  But  you  ! 
What  price  could  buy  your  life  from  Raoul  Rigault. 
And  it  is  for  me  you  fear  ! — oh!  Philip " 

"  Nonsense,  I — 

"  You  are  the  most  generous,  as  you  are  the 
bravest  man  alive,"  she  said  proudly.  "No girl  ever 
had  such  a — such —  "  she  stumbled  a  little,  and  then 
went  on,  her  voice  clear  and  steady.  "  No  woman 
ever  had  such  a  lover  as  you.  I  am  not  worthy  of 
you — but — if  I  could  give  my  life  for  yours,  I  would." 

"  You  will  give  me  your  life  some  day,"  he 
murmured. 

"  I  will,"  she  answered, — "  when  you  ask  it." 

How  he  longed  to  take  her  to  his  breast,  to 
hold  her  close  and  trembling,  to  touch  her  hair, 
her  eyes,  to  kiss  her  hands  !  She  was  so  gentle,  so 
winning  in  her  innocence,  so  helpless,  so  dependent. 
But — the  time  had  come  when  he  dared  not  trust 


COMMISSIONS  FOR    TWO,  367 

the  slightest  caress ;  and  he  was  true  to  himself.  He 
went  to  the  door  and  looked  down  the  dark  road. 
There  was  a  sound  of  distant  galloping  which  came 
nearer  and  nearer  until  a  rider,  all  muffled  and 
shrouded,  swept  up  and  drew  bridle  as  Philip  hurried 
down  to  the  gate.  The  horse,  ghostly  and  gaunt 
was  dripping  from  bit  and  flank,  the  rider  sat  with 
shadowy  face  bent  on  Landes  :  and  his  heart  sank 
as  he  saw  it  was  a  Hussar  of  Death. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  asked,  with  dry  lips. 

"  You  !  "  croaked  the  man,  and  grinned  maliciously 
as  Philip  drew  back  a  step.  Slowly  he  took  a  bundle 
and  a  letter  from  his  saddle  pouch,  and,  flinging  them 
on  the  ground,  wheeled  his  lank  horse  away  into  the 
darkness  again. 

"  Damn  their  theatricals  !  "  muttered  Philip,  angry 
at  himself  for  having  been  so  startled.  The  dead 
ened  hoof-beats  died  away  along  the  road,  and  he 
picked  up  the  letter  and  parcel  and  carried  them  into 
the  cottage,  his  heart  heavy  with  foreboding.  He 
broke  the  seal  of  the  letter  and  read  it  aloud  : 

"DEAR  PHILIP: 

"  My  battalion  marches  toward  Issy  in  ten  min 
utes, — the  bugles  are  sounding  now.  Orders  just  in 
from  Dombrowski  who  takes  command.  I  send  your 
clothes  by  messenger.  There  is  no  answer — let  him 
go — it  "s  one  of  those  goblin  Hussars  of  Death  and 
they  are  the  devil  for  snooping  and  spying.  Take 
care  of  your  lovely  charge!  Goodness  knows  I  wish 
I  could  help  you  out,  but  I  am  only  a  pawn  on  the 
board.  There  is  one  thing  I  can  do  and  I  enclose 


368  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

the  necessary  order.    It  will  keep  you  safe  until  you 
can  turn  yourself  a  little.     I  'm  off. 

"  ARCHIE  WILTON." 

Enclosed  in  this  hasty  letter,  Philip  found  an  offi 
cial  looking  document  : 

"  Headquarters  of  the  Army  in  the  Field. 

"April  5th,  1871. 

"  Orders  given  to  the  citizen  Archibald  Wilton, 
commanding  the  266th  Battalion  to  detail  two  or 
more  officers  at  La  Resida  for  the  purpose  of  in 
specting  all  milk,  poultry,  fresh  vegetables,  eggs, 
and  fruit,  in  requisition  and  to  be  delivered  at  the 
Point-du-Jour  as  occasion  requires  for  the  garrison. 
(Signed)  "  DOMBROWSKI." 

To  this  was  attached  a  slip  of  paper : 

"  Detailed  for  service,  Lieutenants  Dupre  and 
Fabrice  of  the  Subsistence  Department,  now  serving 
as  special  aides  on  my  staff. 

(Signed)  "  ARCHIBALD  WILTON, 

"  Colonel." 

And  again  to  this  was  attached  a  bit  of  paper  on 
which  was  scribbled : 

"  La  Resida  is  a  village  of  three  houses  on  the 
Varzin  Route.  You  '11  be  alone  and  unmolested. 
There  's  a  servant  there.  Follow  the  road  which 
turns  south  by  the  cottage  where  you  now  are.  It 
takes  two  hours  to  drive  there,  four  to  walk. 

"  ARCHIE. 


COMMISSIONS  FOR    TWO.  369 

"  P.  S.  A  word  to  the  wise.  Use  the  dog-cart. 
The  man  won't  mind, — being  in  Mazas  Prison  for  a 
month  or  so.  You  can  keep  it  too — if  you  don't 
mind.  The  horse  will  need  looking  after  while  his 
master  is  enjoying  the  hospitality  of  the  Commune. 

"  A.  W." 

Jeanne  meanwhile  had  opened  the  parcel.  Two 
complete  uniforms  of  officers  of  the  Subsistence 
Department  lay  in  the  papers.  They  were  brand 
new.  Pinned  to  the  sleeve  of  one  of  the  dolmans 
was  a  card  : 

"  I  did  n't  have  to  steal  after  all.  These  are  fresh 
from  the  Equipment  Bureau  and  I  found  them  in 
the  train-des-equipages  just  arrived.  If  a  '  tringlot ' 
comes  with  a  bill  to  La  Resida,  pay  him — you  have 
enough.  A.  W." 

"  The  d — dear  old  fellow  !  "  cried  Philip,  stammer 
ing  with  happiness. 

Jeanne  gathered  up  the  smaller  suit,  including  the 
black  kepi,  the  slim  spurred  boots,  and  the  pointed 
hood  and  cape,  and  slipped  away  into  the  kitchen, 
closing  the  door  behind  her.  Philip  threw  off  his 
Turco  costume  and  put  on  the  new  uniform  with  a 
sigh  of  relief,  for  it  was  clean  and  fresh,  and  fitted 
much  better  than  the  heavy  baggy  Turco  dress.  As 
he  drew  his  visored  silver-edge  cap  over  his  eyes 
there  came  a  knocking  from  the  kitchen  door. 

"  Come  in,  Jeanne,  I  'm  ready,"  he  cried. 

With  charming  timidity  she  walked  in  and  stood 
still,  a  picture  of  delightful  confusion.  Under  the 


3/0  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


visor  of  her  cap,  her  eyes,  veiled  by  the  long  lashes, 
drooped  a  little  ;  her  scarlet  lips  were  nervously 
compressed,  her  cheeks  crimson.  The  astrakhan- 
edged  dolman  fitted  her  lithe  body  to  perfection. 
Above  the  tight  officers'  boots,  which  came  almost 
to  her  knee,  her  young  limbs  seemed  rounded 
and  moulded  into  the  black  riding  breeches  with 
their  triple  dark-blue  stripe.  She  touched  the  hilt 
of  her  sword,  glancing  shyly  at  Philip,  and,  as  she 
moved,  her  spurred  heels  rang  on  the  tiled  floor. 

"  A  perfect  soldier  !  A  swordsman  !  A  swords 
man  !  "  he  cried,  marvelling  at  her  grace  and 
beauty. 

"  But  my  hair  —  my  hair  is  very  unmilitary, 
Philip!" 

"  You  can  draw  the  hood  on." 

"  Of  course ;  and  that  with  the  long  cloak  will 
make  me  look  like  a  common  soldier! — and  I  'm  an 
officer  !  I  shall  cut  my  hair,"  she  announced. 

"  I  'd  like  to  see  you  !  "  he  cried,  "  you  little  Ama 
zon  !  " 

"  But  I  will,"  she  persisted,  mutinously,  "  and  I 
like  this  costume — a  soldier's  !  I  feel  so  free — I — 
believe  I  hate  skirts  !  " 

"  Oh !  " 

"I  do !  "  she  laughed.  There  was  a  slightly 
strained  tone  of  excitement  in  her  laugh.  The 
long  strain  of  weeks,  the  series  of  shocks  she  had 
endured  so  quietly  and  bravely  for  two  days  past 
were  telling  on  her  nerves.  This  feverish  gaiety  was 
a  revulsion  from  the  cruel  suffering  of  suspense.  It 
would  lead  to  a  crisis  unless  he  interposed. 


COMMISSIONS  FOR  TWO.  3/1 

"Jeanne,"  he  began — 

"  Lieutenant,  if  you  please,"  she  interrupted, 
laughing  almost  hysterically. 

"  Jeanne,"  he  repeated,  "  I  must  clear  up  here  be 
fore  we  go  ;  will  you  help  me  ?  Have  you  your  own 
clothes  ?  No  ?  Get  them  at  once  and  make  a  bun 
dle,  as  small  as  you  can,  then  take  Tcherka  and 
go  and  sit  in  the  dog-cart  until  I  come.  Hold  on  to 
Tcherka,  for  we  Ve  no  time  to  chase  her  if  she  takes 
it  into  her  head  to  run  away.  I  must  go  and  hide 
my  Turco  suit." 

He  looked  around  the  tool-room  and  found  a 
spade,  and,  going  into  the  garden,  dug  a  hole  large 
enough  to  accommodate  his  Turco's  costume.  Then 
he  returned  to  the  house,  put  out  the  lamp,  shut 
and  locked  the  door,  and  joined  Jeanne,  whom  he 
found  sitting  in  the  dog-cart.  She  had  put  on  the 
long  hooded  cloak,  and  she  looked  very  meek  now, 
hugging  Tcherka  to  her  breast. 

"  Good,"  he  said,  unhitching  the  horses  and 
springing  to  the  seat  beside  her.  "You  will  need 
your  cloak,  it  is  going  to  be  a  cool  drive."  He 
glanced  into  her  face.  It  was  quite  white,  all  trace 
of  excitement  was  gone,  and  she  looked  terribly 
fatigued.  He  wrapped  his  own  cloak  about  her  feet, 
muffled  her  hands  in  the  warm  folds,  and  then  delib 
erately  put  his  arm  around  her  neck  and  drew  her 
head  down  to  his  shoulder. 

"  Sleep — if  you  can,"  he  whispered,  giving  the 
reins  a  shake,  and  the  dog-cart  swung  into  the  Varzin 
road  due  south  from  the  Route  de  Paris. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

WITHIN    THE    WALLS. 

THE  great  sortie  to  Versailles,  conceived  and 
directed  by  Bergeret  "  himself,"  had  failed 
utterly.  Flourens'  column  had  been  repulsed 
and  driven  through  the  Porte  Maillot  and  Flourens 
lay  dead  in  the  road  with  his  crazy  head  split  open 
by  a  gendarme's  sabre.  Bergeret's  column,  with  the 
exception  of  the  1st  Turcos  and  the  Hussars  of 
Death,  had  made  good  time  toward  the  Point-du- 
Jour,  headed  by  Bergeret  "  himself."  Eudes  was 
anxiously  dodging  behind  the  bomb-proofs  of  Issy 
with  the  fragments  of  his  command,  and  Duval's 
column,  righting  bravely,  was  slowly  retreating  from 
the  shambles  of  Meudon  and  Clamart.  Duval,  with 
his  entire  staff,  had  been  captured  late  in  the  day, 
and,  in  harmony  with  Monsieur  Thiers'  ideas  of  civil 
ized  warfare,  had  been  backed  up  against  a  wall  and 
shot  without  court-martial.  He  met  death  gallantly, 
quietly  removed  and  folded  his  jacket,  placed  it  on 
the  grass,  and  throwing  open  his  shirt  front  cried  : 
"  Long  live  the  Republic  !  Aim  !  Fire  !  "  And  old 
General  Vinoy  who  stood  by,  gnawing  his  moustache, 
growled  :  "  C'etait  un  crane  bougre, — il  est  mort 
comme  un  bon  bougre!" 

The  Army   of    the  Commune   was  in   fragments, 
and  from  the  Hotel  de  Ville   a  howl  went  up  which 

372 


WITHIN    THE    WALLS.  3/3 


chilled  the  Parisians  to  the  marrow.  The  howl  was 
answered  by  one  still  more  sinister  from  Cluseret. 

In  1848  Cluseret  was  a  Mobile,  later  he  was  a  Cap 
tain  in  the  Foot  Chasseurs,  but  his  resignation  was 
requested  on  account  of  some  alleged  irregularity 
in  money  matters.  Then  he  went  to  America  and 
became  a  General  during  the  War  of  Secession, 
but  history  is  silent  as  to  his  exploits.  When  he 
returned  to  Paris  he  edited  a  newspaper.  According 
to  his  own  statement,  "he  had  n't  read  very  much," 
but  he  signed  his  articles  "  General  Cluseret,"  and 
that  went  a  great  way  with  himself,  although  it 
shocked  the  professional  sense  of  the  Paris  press. 

Hardly  was  h^.  installed  in  the  Hotel  de  Ville 
before  he  began  to  issue  decrees  at  such  a  rate  that 
the  Government  printer  resigned  his  position. 

The  first  decree  re-established  the  Compagnies  de 
Marche  of  the  National  Guard.  It  read  as  follows : 

"  In  consequence  of  the  patriotic  demand  of  the  great  mass  of  the 
National  Guard,  who,  although  married,  insist  on  being  accorded  the 
honor  of  defending  their  country  and  their  municipal  independence, 
the  decree  of  the  5th  of  April  is  modified  as  follows  : 

"  1st.  From  the  age  of  seventeen  to  nineteen,  service  in  the  Army 
of  the  Commune  will  be  voluntary  ;  and  from  the  age  of  nineteen 
to  forty,  obligatory  for  all  National  Guards  whether  married  or  not. 

"  2cl.  I  urge  all  good  patriots  to  serve  as  police  for  their  own 
city  wards  and  to  force  all  refractory  persons  to  serve  in  the  Army  of 
the  Commune." 

This  infamous  decree  was  signed  : 
"  Le  delegue  a  la  guerre,. 

"  GENERAL  CLUSERET." 

According  to  its  terms,  a  citizen  would  be  forced 
to  serve,  in  civil  war,  a  cause  which  might  be  odious 


374  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


to  him.  No  measure  was  more  unpopular  or  did 
more  injury  to  the  cause  of  the  Commune.  It 
organized  and  legalized  the  search  for  and  pursuit 
of  neutral  citizens,  anywhere  and  everywhere, — in 
the  streets,  in  their  homes,  in  the  very  churches, 
— even  at  the  foot  of  the  high  altar. 

But  General  Cluseret's  second  decree  was  des 
tined  to  dim  the  lustre  of  the  first,  for  in  it  he  estab 
lished  military  terror — the  Court-Martial. 

Raoul  Rigault  looked  askance  at  these  proceedings, 
fearing  no  doubt  that  they  would  take  away  from 
him  people  whom  he  might  prefer  to  murder  himself, 
so  he  redoubled  his  "  vigilance  "  and  the  prisons  were 
gorged  with  priests. 

Meanwhile  at  Versailles,  MacMahon  took  command, 
always,  of  course,  under  the  foxy  eye  of  Monsieur 
Thiers ;  and  now  the  Army  of  Versailles  was  com 
posed  of  two  strong  infantry  corps  and  a  heavy  corps 
of  cavalry,  besides  two  divisions  of  infantry  held  as 
reserve.  MacMahon  lost  no  time.  On  the  6th  of 
April  the  outer  line  of  forts  was  besieged  ;  on  the  /th, 
the  Versaillists  reached  Gennevilliers ;  the  8th, 
Montaudon's  division  fell  upon  the  bridge  of  Neuilly 
and  swept  it  clean  ;  on  the  9th,  de  Gallifet's  chas 
seurs  galloped  into  Courbevoie ;  and  on  the  i/th 
Davoust  led  the  assault  on  the  famous  Chateau  of 
Becon  which  was  the  key  to  Gennevilliers.  On  the 
1 8th,  a  regiment  of  gendarmes  chased  the  Federalsout 
of  Bois-de-Colombes  ;  the  iQth,  the  Hussars  of  Death, 
the  Polish  Riders,  the  Garibaldians,  and  the  34th 
de  marche  were  hurled  across  the  bridge  of 
Asnieres  and  fled  pell-mell  into  Paris.  Had  it  not 


WITHIN   THE    WALLS.  375 


been  for  Dombrowski,  the  passage  of  the  Seine 
would  have  been  open  to  the  Versailles  Army. 

"  You  cowards !  "  he  cried,  spurring  his  horse 
through  the  flying  insurgents,  "  must  a  Polish  officer 
give  lessons  in  courage  to  Frenchmen  !  "  And  he 
pushed  himself,  followed  by  his  staff,  straight  into 
the  enemy's  fire,  crying  :  "  No  cowards  need  follow 
me  !  "  The  Federals  heard  him,  rallied  and  charged, 
and  the  bridge  was  saved. 

General  Cluseret,  "  del^gu^  a  la  guerre,"  selected 
three  lieutenants,  and  to  do  him  justice  he  selected 
them  fairly  well.  The  best  of  the  three  was  Dom 
browski,  who  was  intrusted  with  the  lines  of  defense 
from  Saint-Ouen  to  the  Point-du-Jour,  and  who 
established  his  headquarters  at  La  Muette.  His 
strategy  and  defense  were  admirable. 

The  second  of  these  lieutenants  was  Wrobleski, 
another  Pole,  who  probably  knew  more  than  most 
of  the  gentlemen  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville  and  certainly 
knew  more  than  Cluseret,  but  he  was  not  the  equal 
of  Dombrowski.  Wrobleski  commanded  the  lines 
from  the  Point-du-Jour  to  Bercy. 

The  third  man  selected  by  General  Cluseret  was 
La  Cecilia,  a  well-bred,  harmless  gentleman,  who 
spoke  or  understood  twenty-six  languages,  and 
passed  for  an  erudite  mathematician  ;  but,  although 
he  had  distinguished  himself  as  a  Colonel  of  franc- 
tireurs  in  the  Franco-Prussian  war,  he  was  no  Gen 
eral,  and  would  have  done  much  better  to  have 
remained  a  simple  Colonel. 

With  these  three  men  Cluseret  might  have  done 
something  ;  he  ought  to  have  done  a  great  deal, 


376  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


but,  like  Monsieur  Thiers,  he  "  did  nothing,"  and  did 
it  almost  as  energetically  as  Monsieur  Thiers.  Then 
the  pack  in  the  Hotel  de  Ville  fell  on  him,  as  it  had 
fallen  with  him  on  others. 

"  Cluseret  is  an  incapable !  "  shouted  Arnold. 

"  Cluseret  is  a  fool !  "  yelled  Vaillant. 

"  Cluseret  is  a  suspect  !  "  added  Clovis  Dupont,  with 
a  cold  sneer. 

That  settled  it ;  the  word  "  suspect  "  always  settled 
things.  Cluseret  was  relieved  of  his  command, 
cashiered,  and  a  decree  was  issued,  which  after  many 
preambles  ended  thus: 

"  It  is  decreed — 

"  That  the  Citizen  Cluseret  be  placed  under  arrest,  and  so  main 
tained  until  the  end  of  the  present  military  operations." 

So  Raoul  Rigault  had  his  grip  on  Cluseret's  throat ; 
and  Rossel,  the  same  day,  stepped  into  Cluseret's 
shoes. 

The  abandonment  of  the  fort  of  Issy  was  Cluseret's 
last  act ;  the  recapture  of  that  fortress  was  Rossel's 
first  act. 

On  the  29th  of  April  the  Versailles  batteries  at 
Meudon  and  Breteuil  pounded  the  last  semblance  of 
shape  and  form  out  of  the  fort  of  Issy,  and  in  spite 
of  the  armored  trains  which  opened  fire  from  the 
viaduct  of  the  Point-du-Jour, — in  spite  of  the  gun 
boats  and  the  terrible  storm  from  bastions  76  and 
77,  the  Versaillists  advanced  by  Clamart  and  Mou- 
lineaux,  occupying  the  park  and  trenches  of  the  Issy 
fort,  and  rapidly  threw  up  breastworks  which  pro 
tected  them  from  the  musketry  fusilade.  The  bom- 


WITHIN    THE    WALLS.  377 


bardment  ceased  at  midnight,  but  when  the  day 
broke  the  batteries  of  Val-Fleury  thundered,  and  the 
smoking  ruins  of  Issy  were  again  covered  with  burst 
ing  shells.  All  day  long  the  exhausted  garrison 
crouched  among  the  debris,  and  when  night  came, 
their  commander  having  fled,  they  crept  out  of  the 
crumbling  crater  and  entered  Paris  at  the  Point-du- 
Jour.  The  fort  had  fallen,  the  Versailles  troops  were 
already  crawling  cautiously  over  the  trenches  and 
glacis,  when  Colonel  Rossel,  at  the  head  of  the  Hus 
sars  of  Death  and  the  remnants  of  the  1st  Turcos, 
burst  through  the  Issy  cemetery,  swept  the  Versailles 
troops  from  the  Park,  the  Chateau,  and  the  Couvent 
des  Oiseaux,  and  once  more  the  red  flag  of  the 
Commune  flapped  from  the  iron  staff  on  the  ruins  of 
the  Issy  fort. 

Until  the  Qth  of  May,  the  handful  of  men  of  the 
1st  Turcos  clung  to  the  fort  of  Issy,  now  in  ruins. 
The  crash  of  their  siege  guns  and  the  rattle  of  their 
American  Catlings  comforted  the  wrangling  patriots 
at  the  Hotel  de  Ville  ;  but  the  fort  of  Issy  was 
doomed,  and  on  the  evening  of  the  pth  of  May  the 
walls  of  Paris  were  placarded  with  this  poster : 


"  THE  TRICOLOR  FLOATS  FROM  THE  FORT  OF  ISSY  ; 
THE  FIRST  BATTALION  OF  PARIS  TURCOS  IS  ABSOLUTELY 
ANNIHILATED. 

"  LE  DELEGUE  A  LA  GUERRE, 
(SIGNED)  "  ROSSEL." 


378  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

Then  the  Hotel  de  Ville  shrieked  "  Treason  !  "  but 
Rossel  stalked  into  their  midst,  sternly  reproaching 
them  for  their  inaction. 

"  I  asked  you  for  artillery  and  infantry,  and  you 
delayed.  Where  is  the  treason  ?  "  he  cried.  "  I 
asked  you  for  a  general,  and  you  sent  me  a  seedy 
professor;  I  asked  for  colonels,  majors,  captains,  and 
you  sent  me  bakers,  butchers,  and  political  scaven 
gers  !  Where  is  the  treason?  Your  quarrelling 
committees  have  paralyzed  my  every  movement, 
your  feeble  hesitation  has  lost  me  my  fort."  Then 
turning  disdainfully  to  Delescluze,  he  said :  "  I  resign, 
— and  I  have  the  honor  to  request  of  you  a  cell  in 
Mazas  Prison ! " 

The  Central  Committee  gaped  at  him  in  amaze 
ment.  Delescluze  frowned,  and  turning  to  Billioray, 
muttered  :  "  Do  you  hear  what  he  asks  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  sneered  Billioray  ;  "give  him  his  cell,  and 
come  to  dinner." 

Of  the  three  hundred  men,  the  remnants  of  the 
1st  Battalion  of  Paris  Turcos,  only  one  escaped 
destruction  in  the  fort  of  Issy.  With  his  company 
which  had  fled  from  Bas-Meudon  woods  and  with 
Pagot's  company  from  the  barricade  in  the  rue 
Notre  Dame,  Weser  had  marched  through  the  Issy 
cemetery  and  had  been  present  when  the  troops,  led 
by  Rossel,  swept  the  Versaillists  from  trench  and 
rifle  pit  and  regained  the  fort ;  but  the  lines  of  in 
vestment  grew  tighter  day  by  day,  and  on  the 
morning  of  the  Qth  of  May  the  Zouaves  of  Charette 
fell  once  more  upon  the  crumbling  fort.  It  was  over 
in  a  few  minutes,  no  quarter  being  given,  and  the 


WITHIN    THE    WALLS.  379 


tricolor  fluttered  gaily  over  the  heaped  up  corpses. 
Isidor  Weser,  the  night  before,  had  foreseen  this. 
He  did  not  require  very  long  to  make  up  his  mind 
as  to  what  he  should  do.  Pagot,  half  divining  his 
intention,  kept  a  keen  eye  on  him. 

"  Izzy,"  he  growled,  "if  you  ever  try  to  desert 
your  men,  I  '11  see  that  you  go  farther  than 
Paris." 

"You  mean — to  heaven?" 

"  I  mean  to  hell." 

So  when,  on  the  night  of  the  8th  of  May,  Weser 
crept  out  of  the  bomb-proof,  Pagot,  lurking  behind 
the  ruined  barracks,  saw  him  steal  across  the  parade, 
and  promptly  confronted  him. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Izzy?"  he  enquired. 

"  I  've  got  a  bullet  in  my  foot,"  replied  Weser, 
"  I  'm  going  to  the  hospital." 

"  Curious!     You  don't  limp,"  mused  Pagot. 

"  Look  for  yourself,  then,"  said  Weser,  sticking 
out  one  tattered  shoe. 

Pagot  stooped  and  took  the  foot  in  his  hands. 

"  Where  is  it  ?     Does  it  hurt,  Izzy  ?  " 

"  It  is  very  painful." 

"  But  I  don't  see — "  began  Pagot. 

"  Don't  you  ?  "  snarled  Weser,  burying  a  knife  in 
his  back, — "  so  sorry,  but  I  must  go  now." 

And  so  it  happened  that  Isidor  Weser,  a  little 
foot-sore  and  with  wary  eyes  on  the  watch,  walked 
into  the  bureau  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  where  Tribert 
sat  comfortably  copying  orders  and  decrees.  Tribert 
eyed  him  in  surprise,  and  his  surprise  changed  to 
something  else  when  Weser  began  to  relate  his  feats 


380  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


of  prowess,  in  what  he  asserted  was  the  last  assault 
on  the  Issy  fort. 

"  It  's  marvellous  that  I  alone  was  saved  to  tell 
the  tale,"  he  ended  fervently. 

"  Yes,"  said  Tribert,  "  it  is  really  marvellous." 

"  I  fought  like  a  demon — 

"As  usual,"  observed  Tribert. 

"  All  my  men  were  down, — the  cannon  thundered 
and  the  air  was  literally  solid  with  shot  and  shell. 
Poor  Pagot  fell  with  a  bullet  in  his  heart 

"  So  when  he  lost  his  heart  you  lost  yours." 

"The  bastions  crumbled  into  dust, — the  ground  was 
wet  with  blood, — blood  flowed  through  the  trenches, 
— blood  splashed  in  the  rifle  pits — blood  ran " 

"  So  you  ran." 

Weser  paused  and  fixed  his  bright  black  eyes 
on  Tribert's  face.  "  Don't  you  believe  me?" 

"  No,  Izzy." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  said  Weser,  softly. 

Half  an  hour  later,  Weser,  in  a  fresh  uniform  of 
a  staff-officer,  filed  his  marvellous  report  of  the  Issy 
massacre,  and  settled  down  to  write  orders  in 
Tribert's  bureau. 

He  would  have  felt  himself  very  comfortable  but 
for  what  he  knew  Tribert  suspected,  and  what  he 
feared  Tribert  might  know — and  his  peace  of  mind 
was  also  ruffled  by  a  vile  habit  Tribert  had  of 
saying  things  to  frighten  him. 

"  Izzy,"  he  observed,  one  very  pleasant  afternoon 
when  Weser  felt  like  enjoying  himself, — "  Izzy,  the 
Commune  is  on  its  last  legs.  We  shall  all  be  shot 
soon,  when  Monsieur  Thiers  comes  back." 


WITHIN   THE    WALLS.  381 


"  Bah ! "  replied  Weser,  valiantly,  but  his  blood 
was  chilled. 

"  Officers  will  get  no  quarter,"  continued  Tribert ; 
"  Raoul  Rigault  and  you  will  probably  be  tor 
tured." 

"  Bah  !  "  said  Weser,  angrily. — "  When  is  Raoul 
Rigault  going  to  shoot  those  priests?  " 

"  Soon,  I  hope — he  's  slow.  The  old  Darboy  has 
been  kept  waiting  too  long  for  his  cong£.  I  'd  have 
hung  him  long  ago." 

"  Yes,  Raoul  is  slow  sometimes,  unaccountably 
slow." 

"  But  he  's  sure,  Izzy,  and  I  think  he  's  got  his 
eye  on  you,"  said  Tribert,  with  clumsy  malice. 

"  He  's  a  lunatic  !  "  muttered  Weser,  quailing. 

"  No — I  think  only  a  little  fond  of  killing.  We  're 
none  of  us  safe,  Izzy,  with  him — now  that  he  has 
begun  to  turn  suspicion  on  the  Central  Committee. 
Yesterday  he  arrested  Rossel,  to-day  he  denounces 
Eudes,  to-morrow  it  may  be  even  Delescluze " 

"  Or  you,  or  me,"  suggested  Weser,  slyly,  detect 
ing  a  tremor  through  Tribert's  bravado.  "  And  he 's 
not  very  clever  after  all ;  I  wonder  why  we  let  him 
frighten  us,"  continued  Weser,  feeling  he  was  get 
ting  the  upper  hand ; — "  for  instance,  after  all  the 
pains  he  took  to  catch  the  American,  Landes,  he 
never  caught  him." 

"  Landes,"  repeated  Tribert  in  an  ominous  voice. 

"  Yes,"  said  Weser,  pretending  not  to  understand 
— "  don't  you  remember  him  ?  You  ought  to,  he  's 
left  his  mark  on  your  face — 

Tribert  burst  into  a  rage  so  wild  that  Weser  seized 


382  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

his  portfolio  and  fled  to  the  next  room,  where  he 
locked  himself  in  and  sat  down  and  laughed  until 
his  bead-like  eyes  grew  glassy.  He  could  hear  Tri- 
bert  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  stamping  and 
cursing,  and  at  last  he  lay  down  on  a  lounge  weak 
with  mirth. 

"  The  ugly  baboon  !  "  he  chuckled,  "  how  nasty 
white  he  got,  and  how  the  scar  showed !  Oh  my  ! 
Oh  my  !  the  bull-necked  bully  !  Oh  dear  !  Oh  my  !  " 
Weser  had  to  hold  his  sides  again. 

The  same  afternoon  Tribert,  pocketing  his  reluct 
ance  to  meet  Raoul  Rigault,  set  out  for  Police  Head 
quarters.  He  found  Rigault  washing  his  hands  in  a 
basin  of  scented  water. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Colonel  Tribert?"  he 
asked,  with  a  smile  so  cold  that  Tribert  faltered. 
Drying  his  plump  white  fingers  on  a  damask  napkin, 
he  called  an  orderly  to  brush  him. 

"  If  you  are  going  out  I  won't  detain  you,"  said 
Tribert,  sorry  he  had  come,  and  edging  toward  the 
door. 

"  I  am  going  to  dinner,  but  if  you  wish  to  de 
nounce  anybody  I  always  have  time  for  that,  you 
understand." 

"  No — yes — that  is,  I  wished  to  ask  whether  you 
have  been  able  to  find  any  trace  of  the  American, 
Landes." 

"  Have  you  come  to  criticise  my  department  ?  " 
asked  Rigault,  with  a  dangerous  flicker  in  his  near 
sighted  eyes. 

"  No  !  Oh  no,  no,  no !  "  cried  Tribert  in  a  hurry. 
"  I  only  wished " 


WITHIN    THE    WALLS.  383 


"  What  ? "  snarled  Rigault,  shooting  a  deadly 
glance  at  him. 

"  I — I  merely  wanted  to  say  that  I  would  be — be 
glad  to  add  five  thousand  francs  to  the  reward." 

"  You  are  very  generous,  Colonel  Tribert,"  said 
Rigault,  deliberately.  "  And  most  disinterested  I 
am,  sure  ! — five  thousand  francs  out  of  your  own 
pocket !  and  you  only  a  poor  Colonel,  with  noth 
ing  but  a  Colonel's  pay — just  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  francs  a  month.  Really,  if  I  did  not 
know  you  to  be  incorruptible,  I  might  almost  won 
der  how  you  could  get  your  five  thousand  francs." 

Tribert's  forehead  was  cold  with  sweat,  and  terror 
was  stamped  on  every  feature.  He  stammered 
something  and  moved  again  toward  the  door. 

"  Good-night,  Colonel  Tribert,"  said  Rigault,  look 
ing  after  him  with  his  pale  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A    VOICE  FROM  THE  CLOUDS. 

THE  white  hamlet  of  La  Resida  lay  in  the  sun 
shine  under  a  sapphire  sky.  On  every  side 
stretched  meadows  already  beginning  to  vi 
brate  with  insect  life,  for  the  bright  sunlight  of  May 
had  gilded  the  silver  clover  and  opened  little  buds 
on  thorn  and  hedge.  Deep  in  the  fragrant  hearts 
of  the  field  lilies,  bees  hummed  and  buzzed,  and 
white  butterflies  flitted  across  acres  of  daisies,  now 
settling  upon  some  blossoming  stalk,  now  hovering 
capriciously,  now  drifting  on  the  soft  wind. 

When  sudden  shifty  breezes  swayed  the  clover, 
each  butterfly  clung  fast  to  its  blossom,  but  when 
the  wind  died  out  and  the  ruffled  surface  of  the 
shallow  meadow  pools  grew  glassy,  the  butterflies 
rose  together  and  sailed  over  the  clover  in  powdery 
clouds. 

A  yellow  cat,  who  was  spending  all  her  energy  in 
pursuit  of  a  low  fluttering  butterfly,  became  excited 
at  the  sight  of  such  swarms  of  winged  creatures, 
and  leaped  frantically  into  the  air ;  but  her  paws 
only  patted  space,  and  she  settled  down  again  among 
the  clover,  smelling  and  pretending  she  had  n't 
jumped.  Then  from  the  white  highway  came  the 
creak  of  wheels  and  the  sharp  snapping  of  whips. 

384 


A     VOICE   FROM    THE    CLOUDS.  385 


The  cat  knew  what  that  meant.  It  meant  a  bowl  of 
fresh  cream  and  perhaps  a  strip  of  tender  meat ; 
and  she  bounded  away  through  the  meadow  toward 
the  largest  of  the  three  houses,  before  which  a  train 
of  market  wains  had  now  drawn  up. 

The  dusty  blue-bloused  teamsters  climbed  to  the 
ground,  and  the  half  dozen  troopers,  who  served  as 
escort,  dismounted  with  a  great  clattering  of  sabres 
and  carbines,  and  led  their  horses  under  the  long 
red-tiled  shelter  behind  the  house. 

"  Tiens,  here  is  the  cat  again,"  cried  a  burly  dra 
goon  ;  "  she  knows  on  which  side  her  bread  is  but 
tered."  He  called  to  her  gaily  and  she  came,  tail 
erect,  uttering  pleased  mews  of  expectation. 

"  Come  here — here,  Tcherka,"  called  a  young 
trooper,  trailing  his  scabbard  in  the  grass  to  lure 
the  cat  to  him,  but  Tcherka  knew  her  business,  and 
proceeded  to  rub  and  mew  and  flatter  the  burly  red- 
faced  cavalryman  until  he  laughed  and  called  to  a 
teamster  :  "  Eh  !  la-bas  ! — bring  me  a  jug  of  cream 
and  a  cup ! " 

At  that  moment  the  door  of  the  stucco  cottage 
opened  and  a  man  in  the  black,  blue,  and  silver  uni 
form  of  a  Lieutenant  of  the  Commune,  Subsistence 
Department,  stepped  out  on  the  lawn.  All  the  troop 
ers  saluted,  and  the  teamsters  raised  their  long  whips 
and  stood  at  attention.  The  officer  touched  the 
polished  visor  of  his  cap,  nodded  smiling,  and  looked 
at  Tcherka,  who  crouched  in  ecstasy  before  a  cup  of 
pure  cream. 

"  I  see,  citizens,  that  I  am  becoming  superfluous 
as  inspector  here.  My  cat  samples  and  tests  for  me ; 


386  THE   RED  REPUBLIC. 


I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  countersign  your  in 
voice,"  he  said. 

Every  morning  it  was  understood  that  some  mild 
pleasantry  should  be  dispensed  concerning  Tcherka's 
prompt  arrival  on  the  appearance  of  the  provision 
convoy,  and  every  morning  the  troopers  laughed 
and  saluted,  and  the  teamsters  grinned  and  snapped 
their  long  whips. 

"  She  is  a  fine  cat, — no  finer  cat  exists  in  France, 
Citizen  Lieutenant, "said  the  burly  red-faced  dragoon. 
This  was  his  invariable  reply  to  Philip's  pleasantries; 
it  came  next  in  order,  after  morning  greetings  had 
been  exchanged. 

Philip  nodded,  and  taking  the  long  strip  of  stamped 
paper  which  the  head  teamster  fished  out  of  the 
crown  of  his  peaked  cap,  walked  slowly  along  the 
lines  of  wagons,  poking  a  cabbage  now  and  then, 
picking  up  and  critically  weighing  eggs  in  the  palm 
of  his  hand,  sipping  samples  of  milk,  or  nibbling  at 
a  leaf  of  escarole  or  romaine.  The  head  teamster 
had  taught  him  how  to  do  this.  It  looked  knowing 
and  very  official,  and  he  supposed  it  was  all  right, 
because  General  La  Cecelia,  who  was  in  command  at 
the  Point-du-Jour,  was  never  heard  from,  and  the 
garrison  found  no  fault  with  the  quality  of  the  food. 
So  Philip  played  at  Provision  Inspector,  frowned  a 
little  when  he  thought  he  had  been  smiling  too 
much,  looked  with  sudden  suspicion  at  an  innocent 
carrot,  hemmed,  coughed,  and  stamped  the  invoice. 
Then  affixing  the  seals  and  signing  with  a  flourish, 
he  returned  the  certificate  and  invoice  to  the  head 
teamster,  who  ducked  and  smiled  in  anticipation. 


A    VOICE  FROM    THE    CLOUDS.  387 


41  Citizens,  you  are  tired — the  road  is  dusty — a  lit 
tle  wine  ?  " 

This  was  Philip's  invariable  formula,  and  the  inva 
riable  chorus  came  heartily:  "A  thousand  thanks, 
Citizen  Lieutenant!  "  So  Philip  called  to  his  long- 
legged  servant,  and  Jacques, — his  name  was  Jacques 
Jean  Marie  Louis  Joseph  Bottier, — brought  out  a 
tray  and  a  half  dozen  bottles  of  ordinary  wine. 
Philip  solemnly  filled  his  glass  and  raised  it. 

"  To  the  Republic,  citizens  !  " 

"  To  the  Republic  !  "  they  cried,  draining  their 
glasses. 

Then  the  troopers  led  their  horses  from  the  shelter, 
the  teamsters  climbed  into  their  heavy  wagons,  the 
provision  train  slowly  moved  away  toward  the  sum 
mit  of  the  low  hill  from  which  one  could  see  Paris 
and  the  Seine ;  and  the  little  hamlet  of  La  Resida 
lay  again  silent  and  deserted  in  the  bright  May  sun 
shine. 

Philip  stood  in  the  doorway  until  the  last  wagon 
had  disappeared  behind  the  hill  and  the  last  trooper 
had  trotted  out  of  sight.  The  stillness  of  the  morn 
ing  was  perfect.  In  the  road  below,  a  very  young 
rabbit  hopped  out  of  a  hedge,  wrinkled  its  nose, 
stared  at  Tcherka  with  large  moist  eyes,  and  scut 
tled  noiselessly  back  into  the  hedge  again. 

The  chances  were  a  hundred  to  one  that  no  hu 
man  being  would  pass  along  the  disused  road  until 
the  wagon  train  returned  at  midnight.  The  chances 
were  a  thousand  to  one  that  Jacques  Jean  Marie 
Louis  Joseph  Bottier  would  stumble  and  break  at 
least  one  glass  when  he  shambled  out  to  remove  the 


388  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


tray.  Philip  mentally  took  the  bet,  although  the 
odds  were  terrible,  but  he  knew  his  man,  called  to 
him,  and  won  the  bet  hands  down.  Jacques  Jean 
Marie  Louis  Joseph  Bottier  had  broken  three  glasses. 

"  I — I  am  very  sorry,  mon  Lieutenant,"  mumbled 
Jacques. 

"  Never  mind,  the  Government  pays,  mon  enfant ; 
get  a  broom  and  sweep  up  the  bits, — and  be  careful 
where  you  throw  them.  Is  Lieutenant  Fabrice  up 
yet  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  Lieutenant." 

"  Indeed,  I  am,"  said  a  gay  voice  from  the  window 
above  ;  "  Jacques,  my  son,  I  wish  my  coffee  at  once. 
Good-morning,  citizen  Lieutenant  Dupre  !  " 

"Good-morning,  Lieutenant,"  replied  Philip, 
gravely  saluting.  "  Am  I  to  have  the  honor  of 
joining  you  at  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Charmed  and  flattered,"  came  the  answer;  "  wait 
a  moment,  Philip ;  I  '11  come  down  under  the  trees 
with  you,"  and  the  figure  at  the  window  above  dis 
appeared. 

"  Bring  the  coffee  out  here,  Jacques,"  said  Philip, 
and  sat  down  under  the  chestnut  trees  at  the  hedge 
gate.  In  another  moment  a  supple,  slim  young  fig 
ure,  clothed  exactly  like  Landes,  appeared  on  the 
threshold. 

"  I  have  a  mind  to  put  on  my  own  clothes  to-day, 
Philip  ;  what  do  you  think  ?  It 's  over  a  month  now 
that  we  've  been  here,  and  we  have  never  seen  any 
thing  more  dangerous  than  the  wild  rabbits  and 
Jacques." 

"  Wait,  Jeanne,"  he  said  soberly. 


A    VOICE   FROM    THE    CLOUDS.  389 


"But  I  don't  see — there!  don't  frown,  Philip — 
I  'm  not  going  to  be  unreasonable, — but  I  would 
like  to  dress  like  a — a  woman  again  just  for  a  few 
hours 

"  And  suppose  General  La  Cecelia  should  gallop 
out  here  to  inspect !  " 

"  He  won't  !  " 

"  Or  suppose  troops  should  pass!" 

"  They  never  do  !  " 

"  Or  the  wagon  train  come  back !  " 

"  Not  before  midnight." 

"  Don't  ask  me,  Jeanne." 

"  But  I  do  ask  you,  Philip." 

"  Then — don't." 

"  Very  well,"  she  sighed,  "  but  really  the  rabbits 
won't  know  the  difference,  and  Jacques  Jean  Marie 
knows  it  already,  and  we  can  trust  him." 

"  It  is  too  dangerous,"  Landes  said  ;  "  suppose 
some  wandering  trooper  or  prying  peasant  should 
see  you  ?  I  tell  you,  Jeanne,  the  teamsters  and  the 
escort  of  the  wagon  train  are  good  fellows  and  swal 
low  all  I  give  them  about  your  special  clerical  work, 
but  if  they  begin  to  wonder  why  it  is  they  never  see 
you  except  at  your  desk  by  the  window  in  the  morn 
ings,  and  take  to  snooping  about  here,  they  will  find 
out  the  truth  in  no  time,  and  you  and  I  will  decorate 
the  branches  here  above  our  heads.  Don't  ask  me, 
Jeanne." 

"  Then  I  won't,  you  dear  fellow,"  said  Jeanne,  and 
looked  at  him  with  clear,  sweet  eyes.  "  Do  I  worry 
you  nearly  to  death  ?  You  will  begin  to  turn  grey, 
I  suppose — why  !  I  do  believe  you  have  two  grey 


390  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


hairs  on  your  temples.  What  a  shame !  Is  it  on 
my  account?  " 

"  No,"  said  Philip,  laughing,  but  his  laugh  was 
not  as  genuine  as  it  might  have  been,  and  it  ended 
with  a  scarcely  perceptible  sigh.  It  was  on  Jeanne's 
account.  Within  the  last  six  weeks  his  eyes  had 
grown  hollow  and  those  firm  lines  had  come  about 
his  mouth  in  thinking  of  her.  Not  of  her  danger 
alone.  No,  there  was  something  besides  that.  His 
love  was  beginning  to  wear  on  him,  and  in  spite  of 
himself  he  was  growing  morbid.  He  knew  she  loved 
him  tenderly,  but  not  with  the  full  love  he  wanted. 
He  began  to  fear  she  never  would  love  him  as  he 
did  her.  He  knew  that  under  the  circumstances 
he  ought  to  thank  God  for  her  simple  childlike 
affection,  and  yet  sometimes  the  temptation  almost 
mastered  him  to  try  and  change  her  feeling  to  a 
deeper  one.  The  struggle  began  to  wear  on  him. 

Jacques  brought  coffee  and  rolls,  and  they  sat  down 
to  breakfast  under  the  flowering  chestnut  trees  by 
the  hedge. 

"  What  are  we  going  to  do  to-day,  Monsieur,"  she 
said  gaily. 

"  We  are  going  to  teach  you  to  say  '  Citizen '  in 
stead  of  '  Monsieur,'  I  think — you  imprudent  girl!" 

"  Et  apres  ?  "  she  persisted,  with  a  wilful  smile. 

"  Whatever  you  wish — shall  we  walk  across  the 
meadow  to  the  brook  in  the  woods?" 

"  Oh,  certainly,  so  that  you  may  spend  the  day 
poking  about  to  see  if  there  are  any  trout  in  the 
pools !  "  she  laughed.  "  You  know  you  might  as 
well  look  for  mermaids  in  the  Seine  !  " 


A    VOICE   FROM    THE    CLOUDS.  39! 


"  If  I  only  had  my  colors  here  !  "  he  said  wistfully. 

"  Poor  boy !  You  shall  look  for  trout  all  day,  if 
that  will  help  you  to  forget  your  easel !  " 

"  Well  then,  suppose  we  fix  up  a  couple  of  rods 
and  try  the  stream  anyway." 

"  For  the  trout  that  are  not  there  ?  " 

"  They  may  be  there, — those  pools  are  deep  and 
no  May-flies  have  hatched  out  this  season.  I  be 
lieve  I  will  try  it.  Jacques  has  hooks  and  lines  ;  he 
fishes  for  gudgeon  in  the  Seine.  Here,  Jacques  !  " 

After  Philip  had  selected  two  from  a  bundle  of 
cane  fishing-rods  which  the  servant  brought  him,  he 
asked  Jacques,  "  What  do  you  do  for  bait  ?  " 

"  Worms !  "  said  Jacques,  briefly. 

Jeanne  turned  away  in  disgust.  Philip  removed 
the  gaudy  quill  floats  from  the  lines  and  called ; 
"  Jeanne,  where  's  your  work-basket  ?  " 

"  In  my  room." 

"Go  and  get  it,  Jacques,  and  bring  me  some  shoe 
maker's  wax  and  all  of  your  spare  hooks.  We  are 
going  to  have  pigeons  for  dinner,  are  n't  we?" 

"  Yes,  Lieutenant." 

"  Are  they  plucked  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Lieutenant." 

"And  there  is  a  duck  and  a  pullet  in  the  cellar. 
Did  you  pluck  them  too  at  the  same  time  ?  " 

"Yes,  Lieutenant." 

"  Can  you  bring  me  the  feathers?" 

"  Yes,  Lieutenant." 

"  Good.  Now,  Jeanne,  come  here  and  learn  how 
to  tie  a  fly,"  he  said  presently,  and  she  immediately 
sat  down  on  the  ground  beside  him.  Piles  of  mottled 


392  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


feathers  lay  all  around  them,  spools  of  red  and  yel 
low  silk  were  in  their  laps. 

"  Watch  me,  Jeanne,  see,  it  is  very  easy." 

He  took  a  fine  hook  in  his  hand,  laid  the  hackle 
from  the  pullet's  neck  against  the  shank,  and  bound 
it  firmly  with  a  twist  or  two  of  the  waxed  silk. 
Then  he  clipped  the  tip  from  a  white  pigeon  feather 
and  bound  it  to  the  end  of  the  shank  for  the  wings. 
When  he  had  finished  winding  the  body  and  had 
inserted  a  bit  of  scarlet  worsted  just  above  the 
barb,  he  laid  a  strand  of  silver  tinsel  from  the  galons 
of  his  sleeve  over  the  body  of  the  insect,  bent  back 
the  wings,  gave  a  dozen  quick  turns  to  the  thread, 
and  snipped  the  thread  with  his  knife. 

"That  's  a  very  fair  '  Royal  Coachman,'  "  he  said, 
holding  it  out  for  inspection. 

"  How  pretty !  "  she  cried  ;  "  I  shall  make  one  im 
mediately." 

They  worked  quickly,  but  her  slender  fingers  flew 
faster  than  his  ;  and  before  he  had  finished  explain 
ing  the  mysteries  of  "  Professors,"  "  Green  Drakes," 
"  Yellow  Mays,"  "  Hackles,"  "  Spinners,"  and 
"  Gnats,"  she  had  a  little  heap  of  a  dozen  tempting- 
looking  flies  in  her  lap,  while  he  could  only  count 
eight. 

"  They  are  beautifully  dressed,"  he  said,  highly 
delighted  ;  "you  tie  a  fly  much  better  than  I  do." 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  she  laughed,  springing  up, 
"  and  now  I  intend  to  go  and  catch  a  little  fish." 

"  This  is  a  highly  accomplished  young  lady,"  said 
Philip,  rising  and  brushing  the  bits  of  tinsel,  silk, 
and  feather  from  his  braided  jacket;  "look  at  your 


A    VOICE  FROM   THE    CLOUDS,  393 


spurs,  Jeanne;  who  ever  heard  of  a  trout  fisherman 
in  spurred  boots  ?  Give  your  sabre  to  Jacques  !  " 

"  Who  ever  heard  of  a  fisherman  in  staff  uniform  ?  " 
she  retorted. 

They  unbuckled  their  sabres  and  handed  them  to 
Jacques,  whose  approval  of  the  proceedings  was  ex 
pressed  in  a  grin. 

"  Take  care  of  Tcherka,  Jacques,"  said  Jeanne, 
with  a  pretty  gesture  toward  the  cat,  who  sprawled 
dozing  in  the  sun  by  the  hedge  ;  "  when  shall  we 
return,  Philip  ?  " 

"  By  six  anyway.  Dinner  at  seven,  Jacques  ; — 
pigeons  and  salad,  you  know, — and  don't  you  dare 
burn  the  soup  !  " 

Jacques  ducked  and  grinned. 

"  If  anybody  should  come,"  began  Philip 

"  Nobody  will  come;  are  you  ready?"  she  cried 
impatiently. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  picking  up  both  rods;  but  Jeanne 
insisted  on  carrying  her  own,  and  imitated  Philip's 
method  of  disposing  of  his  flies  by  sticking  them  all 
over  her  silver-banded  cap.  The  cap  set  very  natu 
rally  on  her  head  now,  for,  eluding  Philip's  vigilance, 
she  had  cut  off  her  lovely  hair,  and  now  it  curled 
and  waved  all  over  her  small  head. 

Philip  swung  to  his  shoulder  a  campaign  sack  in 
which  were  chicken  sandwiches  and  a  bottle  of  wine, 
and  followed  her  through  the  hedge  gate. 

"  If  anything  happens  and  we  don't  return  for 
dinner,"  he  called  to  Jacques  over  the  gate,  "you 
must  not  be  alarmed  ;  keep  a  cautious  tongue  in  your 
head,  and  stay  right  here  until  we  do  come  back." 


394  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


"And  take  good  care  of  Tcherka!  "  added  Jeanne, 
gaily.  At  the  sound  of  her  name,  Tcherka  raised 
her  pink  nose  and  blinked  in  the  sunlight,  but 
Jeanne  and  Philip  had  turned  into  the  meadow  and 
were  already  wading  ankle  -  deep  in  the  scented 
clover.  She  moved  through  the  clover  lightly,  her 
fair  face  faintly  tinged  with  color,  little  glints  of  soft 
hair  blowing  over  her  cheeks.  The  collar  of  he^ 
jacket  dented  the  skin  on  her  white  throat  and  she 
left  it  open. 

"  Did  you  bring  any  brioche  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  For  you — of  course." 

"  You  never  forget  anything." 

"  I  cannot — anything  that  concerns  you." 

"  I  'm  sure  there  is  one  thing  you  forgot." 

"What?" 

"  Salt !  " 

"  But  you  do  not  use  it." 

"But  you  do!  " 

He  laughed  and  colored. 

She  was  silent,  and  they  moved  on  lightly  through 
the  fragrant  meadow. 

"  Butterflies,  butterflies,  and  more  butterflies  !  " 
she  exclaimed  at  last.  "  I  think  the  clover  has 
taken  wings  !  Do  you  suppose  they  are  happy?  I 
am  sure  they  are.  See  them  whirl  and  hover  and 
then  go  fluttering  up,  up,  up,  until  they  fade  into 
the  blue.  Do  they  ever  come  down  again  ?  There 
go  two  more  up,  up  to  the  sky.  Do  they  always  go 
together — two  together — when  they  sail  away  into 
the  blue  sky  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  they  are  seeking  the  haven  of  love,"  he 
said  sadly. 


A    VOICE  FROM    THE   CLOUDS.  395 


She  noticed  his  tone,  and  continued  in  a  low 
voice :  "  Psyche  holds  a  butterfly.  Is  love  immor 
tal,  Fhilip?" 

"  Some  love  is." 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  How  do  I  know?  "  he  repeated  sharply. 

"  Yes — how  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Because  I  love." 

They  went  on  some  time  in  silence.  She  was  a 
little  in  advance.  When  they  came  to  the  meadow 
brook  she  waited  for  him  at  the  edge.  He  helped 
her  over,  and,  when  he  would  have  dropped  her 
hand,  her  slender  fingers  held  his.  Her  eyes  were 
turned  toward  the  near  woods. 

"  Listen  !  "  she  said—"  the  birds." 

How  deep  and  warm  the  fragrance  of  the  sunlit 
meadows  !  How  sweet  and  cool  the  glades  through 
which  their  path  now  lay !  Her  soft  white  hand, 
which  thrilled  him  so,  lay  in  his  own,  quite  passive, 
as  side  by  side  they  moved  along  the  narrow  wood 
land  path.  And  from  the  dim  arches  of  the  forest 
aisles  the  song  of  the  birds  swelled  unceasingly. 
High  on  the  tip  of  a  tall  pine  a  blackbird  was  sing 
ing  to  his  mate. 

"  A  blackbird  !    Our  prophet !  "  whispered  Jeanne. 

"  What  does  he  prophesy,  Jeanne  !  " 

"  Happiness — I  think." 

"For  us?" 

She  bent  her  head,  the  color  mantled  neck  and 
forehead. 

"  For  us  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  He  is  our  prophet,"  she  murmured;  "don't  ask 
me  yet,  Philip — give  me  time." 


396  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  pleaded. 

"What?" 

"That  you  are  learning  to  love." 

"  To  love,"  she  repeated,  trembling.  "  Oh,  I  don't 
know — wait — wait,  I  must  have  time.  I  scarcely 
know  what  I  am  saying.  It  came  so  suddenly — in 
the  meadow — 

"  You  are  frightened,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  happy 
voice  ;  "  I  will  wait,  Jeanne, — don't  tremble  so,  I 
am  only  Philip,  your  comrade — 

"You  are  more,"  she  cried — "  Philip,  I  love  you  !  " 
and  she  flung  her  arms  around  his  neck. 

"The  birds  are  still  singing,"  he  murmured,  as  she 
lay  trembling  in  his  arms.  She  nestled  her  head 
closer  to  his,  her  eyes,  half-veiled,  drooped  with  a 
new  shyness. 

"Jeanne,  Jeanne,"  he  murmured,  "  I  love  you." 

And  at  last  she  answered  him,  speaking  his  own 
language:  "Ah!  How  I  love  you,  my  Philip!" 
She  raised  her  face  to  his  in  the  innocence  of  her 
passion.  How  her  heart  was  beating  !  He  held  her 
closer.  The  forest  around  was  very  still.  Their  lips 
met.  The  blackbird  uttered  a  long  liquid  note. 

If  there  had  been  trout  in  the  stream,  and  if  Philip 
and  Jeanne  had  fished  for  them,  the  trout  might 
have  taken  the  artificial  flies.  But  those  prattling 
rapids,  and  deep  amber  pools  swirling  under  green 
leaves,  were  never  disturbed  by  fishermen  that  day. 
A  heavy  fish  floundered  up  after  a  struggling  cricket, 
but  the  leap  and  splash  did  not  draw  a  glance  from 
Philip.  A  sleek  otter  slipped  silently  into  the  pool 
from  the  bank  above.  A  baby  fox  crept  from  the 


A    VOICE   FROM    THE    CLOUDS.  397 


thicket  into  a  sunny  circle  among  some  ferns,  cock 
ing  his  enormous  ears  and  peering  cunningly  across. 
He  played  boldly  in  the  sunshine  until  Philip  took  a 
step  forward,  then  he  came  down  on  all  fours  bark 
ing  impudent  defiance. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Jeanne,  raising  her  face 
from  Philip's  shoulder. 

"  Nothing,  my  darling,  only  a  fox  cub." 

Presently  the  fox,  tired  of  barking,  curled  up, 
tucked  his  brush  under  his  flank,  yawned,  and 
blinked  at  them  with  glittering,  malicious  eyes. 

Through  the  tree  tops  the  sunshine  glimmered 
like  powdered  gold.  Far  in  the  forest  depths  some 
lost  sunbeam  sparkled  and  paled  as  the  branches 
swayed  in  the  breeze.  A  grey  hawk  darted  through 
the  labyrinth  of  trees,  and  his  long  wings  flashed  as 
he  wheeled  and  hung  breathless  above  the  baby  fox. 
The  cub  leered  up  at  the  bird  and  snarled,  the  hawk 
sailed  away  over  the  tree  tops  uttering  a  desolate 
cry.  Then,  as  Philip  raised  his  head  to  look  after 
him,  a  sudden  shadow,  vast  and  grey,  enveloped 
them.  They  started  up, — a  balloon  was  gliding 
through  the  air  just  above  the  tree  tops.  At  the 
same  instant  a  voice  came  from  the  wicker  car,  clear 
and  distinct:  "Let  go  that  sand  bag,  we  Ve  got  to 
rise  ;  this  wood  is  deserted  ; — ready — heave  !  " 

A  torrent  of  sand  came  rushing  earthward  through 
the  leaves.  The  fox  cub  fled.  Jeanne  caught  Philip's 
arm. 

"  Signal  General  de  Gallifet  to  attack,  Lieutenant," 
came  the  voice  from  the  sky,  more  faintly  now. 

"  Bien,  mon  Colonel." 


39^  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Ready  with  another  sack, — heave  !  "  Again  the 
descending  rush  of  sand  tore  through  the  branches. 

"  Signal  Clamart  when  we  get  higher." 

"  Bien,  mon  Colonel." 

The  words  grew  fainter  and  fainter  until  the  voices 
died  away  in  the  sky  and  the  balloon  rose  higher, 
higher,  while  the  sun  glinted  on  the  pale  yellow  silk, 
and  struck  showers  of  sparks  from  the  flashing 
heliograph. 

"We  had  better  go,"  said  Philip,  quietly , — "that  is 
a  Versailles  balloon,  and  they  are  signalling  to 
attack." 

"  I  suppose  if  you  had  hailed  it  they  would  have 
fired  at  us  without  inquiry,"  said  Jeanne,  anxiously. 

"  Yes — our  uniforms — and  they  shoot  first  under 
such  circumstances." 

She  sighed  and  drew  his  arm  about  her  waist,  but 
before  she  could  speak,  the  distant  bang !  bang ! 
bang  !  of  cavalry  carbines  sent  Philip  leaping  to  the 
edge  of  the  woods. 

"  Oh,  look,"  cried  Jeanne,  "  they  are  shooting  up 
at  the  balloon  !  " 

It  was  true.  A  dozen  cavalrymen  were  capering 
about  on  the  road  below  in  great  excitement.  Now 
and  then  they  drew  bridle  and  fired  from  their  sad 
dles  at  the  balloon  above,  then  dug  spurs  into  their 
horses  and  galloped  madly  after  it.  The  balloon 
moved  slowly  toward  the  west,  the  car  was  too 
indistinct  now  to  distinguish  flags  or  figures,  but 
high  in  the  clouds  the  heliograph  sparkled  and 
flashed  its  messages  across  the  country  to  Clamart 
and  Meudon  and  the  heights  of  Versailles. 


A     VOICE   FROM    THE    CLOUDS.  399 


"What  is  that — -oh  !  see  there,  Philip  !  "  she  cried 
again. 

"Where?     What?" 

"There — by  our  house — don't  you  see?  Away 
off  there  near  that  queer  red  square  on  the  hillside." 

"  That  queer  red  square  on  the  hillside  is  a  regi 
ment  of  infantry  of  the  Line,"  he  said  quietly  ;  "  and 
what  you  see  beyond  them,  near  our  house,  is  the 
sunlight  striking  the  cannon  of  a  field  battery.  See 
how  they  move  now.  They  must  be  close  to  our 
house.  Look !  The  cavalrymen  have  given  up 
chasing  the  balloon.  I  believe  they  have  just  dis 
covered  the  Versailles  infantry— yes — there  they  go 
to  warn  their  main  body  !  " 

"  Then — then  we  can't  go  home,  can  we  ?  "  said 
Jeanne,  faintly. 

"  No  indeed, — we  're  homeless  again,  my  darling, 
— unless  the  Federals  are  in  force  in  this  vicinity, 
which  I  don't  believe.  If  we  had  n't  come  fishing 
we  would  have  been  taken  by  the  Versailles  scouts." 

"  And  shot  ?  " 

"  Not  you  I  trust." 

"  It  would  be  the  same,"  she  replied  indifferently, 
"  I  shall  die  when  you  do." 

A  nearer  crackle  of  musketry  sounded  from  a 
patch  of  woods  below. 

"  Hello,"  cried  Philip,  "the  Federals  are  here  after 
all.  That  was  the  pickets  ; — now  they  are  firing  by 
company, — Hark  !  See  the  white  cloud  on  the  hill 
back  of  our  house  !  The  battery  is  shelling  the 
grove.  That  shell  fell  perfectly; — it  must  have 
exploded  among  the  battalions." 


40O  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  They  are  going  to  turn  our  paradise  into  a  battle 
field,"  said  Jeanne,  desperately ;  "  oh,  do  you  think 
they  will  ?  " 

"  I  fear  so,"  he  said,  drawing  her  closer. 

For  now,  from  the  battery  on  the  distant  hill,  the 
pale  flames  leaped  incessantly,  and  the  insurgent 
infantry  in  the  wood  below  poured  out  of  cover  in 
disorder,  scattering  in  every  direction.  Then  other 
batteries,  masked  among  the  groves  and  thickets  of 
the  circling  hillsides,  burst  into  smoke  and  flame : 
everywhere  reddish  -  brown  squares  and  oblongs 
blotted  plains  and  hillsides,  and  bayonet  tips 
sparkled  in  the  sunlight. 

Crash !  ripple — crash !  came  the  volleys  on  every 
side.  Like  rats  scuttling  from  a  settling  hulk  the 
Federals  tumbled  out  of  the  undergrowth  and  made 
tracks  for  the  denser  cover  of  the  forest. 

"  They  are  coming  here,"  said  Philip,  "  we  can't 
stay  any  longer." 

"  But  where  can  we  go?"  asked  Jeanne. 

"  To  Paris — we  have  no  choice.  The  whole  Ver 
sailles  army  is  on  the  move.  Oh,  if  we  could  only 
get  rid  of  these  uniforms !  " 

"  Look!  Look  !  Philip  !  "  cried  Jeanne,  catching 
him  by  the  arm  and  pointing  at  a  little  footbridge 
not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  below  them. 

"  I  see,"  he  muttered,  "  the  Federals  will  be  cut  to 
pieces ; — it  is  a  flank  movement." 

For  a  moment  they  watched  a  dense  column  of 
red-legged  infantry  crowding  at  double  quick  across 
the  little  bridge,  then  Philip  turned  away  with  an 
irresolute  gesture. 


A    VOICE  FROM   THE   CLOUDS.  40! 


"  It  would  mean  safety  for  you  if  you  were  not 
wearing  this  cursed  uniform.  What  a  fool  I  was  not 
to  listen  to  you  when  you  wanted  to  wear  your  own 
clothes  !  " 

"  It  would  have  made  no  difference,"  she  said, 
"you  would  not  have  been  able  to  go  with  me." 

"Your  safety  is  the  first  thing,"  he  said,  almost 
roughly.  "  Look  down  there ;  see  how  near  they 
are  !  What  a  fool  I  was  !  " 

She  slipped  her  hand  into  his  and  smiled. 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  take  me  to  Paris  ?  " 

"  It  's  time,"  he  cried,  "  ah,  if  you  were  only 
safe " 

A  half-suppressed  scream  from  Jeanne  checked 
him.  Through  the  trees,  over  the  soft  thick  moss,  a 
file  of  horsemen  were  advancing  in  perfect  silence. 
Towering  above  his  skeleton  horse,  wrapped  in  the 
awful  emblems  of  death,  the  leader  of  the  cavalcade 
moved  noiselessly  toward  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and 
after  him  swarmed  his  hideous  legion,  gaunt,  pallid, 
shrouded  in  crepe.  Grimly,  above  his  horse's  rusty 
mane,  the  leader  stooped  and  pointed.  His  sunken 
eyes  glittered.  Then  came  the  sharp  hiss  of  sabres 
leaping  from  steel  scabbards,  the  hoarse  croak  of 
command,  and  the  Hussars  of  Death  wheeled  and 
fell  upon  the  enemy. 

"  Oh,  Philip  !  "  moaned  Jeanne,  covering  her  eyes, 
for  the  spectacle  at  the  footbridge  was  terrible. 
Fascinated  by  the  horror  of  the  swift  butchery  on 
the  bridge,  Philip  had  stepped  out  to  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  but  Jeanne's  cry  roused  him  and  he  cast  a 

quick  glance  around.     Already  the  red-capped  sharp- 

26 


4<D2  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


shooters  were  creeping  in  their  direction,  while  from 
the  meadow  below  the  frightened  insurgents  clam 
bered  up  the  hill  and  fled  through  the  woods  toward 
Paris. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  and  seized  her  hand,  and  they 
started,  running  after  the  rest. 

It  was  a  long  dash  through  the  woods,  but  she 
kept  up  bravely,  her  hand  clasped  tightly  in  his. 
When  her  breath  came  in  little  gasps  and  her  limbs 
faltered,  he  would  slacken  the  pace  and  walk  until 
she  signalled  silently  that  she  was  ready  again. 
Once  a  prowling  Versailles  sharpshooter  took  a  snap 
shot  at  a  Federalist  who  was  running  just  ahead  of 
them,  and  the  fellow  dropped,  cursing,  with  a  bullet 
in  his  ankle,  but  the  sharpshooter  was  instantly  en 
veloped  by  a  swarm  of  fugitives  who  fell  on  him, 
snarling  like  wildcats,  and  literally  tore  him  to  pieces 
among  the  underbrush. 

Twice  Jeanne  stopped  to  quench  her  thirst  at  some 
of  the  rills  that  crossed  their  path,  and  little  by 
little  the  flying  Federals  passed  them,  until  they  were 
left  entirely  alone  on  the  farther  edge  of  the  forest. 
And  here  Jeanne  sank  down,  panting  and  tearful, 
and  Philip  knelt  beside  her,  taking  her  hands  in  his. 

"  I — I  can't  go  on  !  "  she  gasped. 

"  You  must — don't  hurry — but  you  must." 

"  I  cannot,"  she  sighed, — "  my  heart  seems  to 
suffocate  me ! " 

He  walked  swiftly  to  the  edge  of  the  fringe  of 
trees  and  then  hurried  back  again.  "  Courage,  my 
darling.  We  are  close  to  the  ramparts  of  Paris. 
Only  one  more  effort  and  we  are  safe,"  he  whispered. 


A    VOICE  FROM   THE   CLOUDS.  403 


She  looked  up  at  him  and  held  out  both  her  arms. 
"  Lift  me,"  she  said,  "  I  will  try." 

He  stooped  and  raised  her  and  she  clung  about 
his  neck,  smiling  through  her  tears.  And  as  he 
stood  for  a  moment,  holding  her  in  his  arms,  a  man 
came  creeping  through  the  thicket  before  him.  He 
sprang  back,  and  Jeanne  slipped  to  her  feet,  but 
other  men  jumped  on  him  from  the  bushes  and 
struck  him  savagely,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  roll 
ing,  stunned  and  bleeding,  among  the  dead  leaves. 
Jeanne,  pale  and  silent,  struggled  between  two 
marines  of  the  Commune,  but  one  of  the  men  drew 
his  sword  and  pressing  the  point  against  her  braided 
jacket,  sternly  bade  her  be  quiet.  Then  Philip 
opened  his  eyes,  gasped,  stared,  and  staggered  to 
his  feet. 

"  Ah  !  "  sneered  Weser,  "  a  spy  in  the  uniform  of 
the  Commune  !  Very  funny — oh,  very  funny — but 
what  's  coming  is  funnier  yet !  "  Then  tuining  to  a 
corporal  beside  him  :  "  take  that  man  to  La  Roquette 
— and  take  that  pink  and  white  putty-faced  young 
fool  there  along  with  him.  He  looks  like  a  sniv 
elling  woman.  I  '11  give  him  something  to  snivel 
for.  Where  's  my  horse  ?  Tell  my  aide-de-camp  to 
notify  Rigault  that  the  fellow  Landes  is  caught,  and 
is  safe  in  La  Roquette, — and  tell  him  to  send  the 
reward  to  me  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  By  the  way, 
you  need  n't  say  anything  to  Colonel  Tribert, — I  '11 
speak  to  him  myself.  If  the  prisoners  are  unruly 
smash  their  skulls  in.  March  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

WESER  BIDS  TRIBERT  GOOD-NIGHT. 

WHEN  the  last  of  the  Paris  Turcos,  Pagot's 
company,  were  exterminated  at  the  fort  of 
Issy,  Tribert  notified  Colonel  Rossel  that 
the  barricade  on  the  rue  Notre  Dame  was  empty  and 
undefended.  Colonel  Rossel,  a  soldier  to  his  finger 
tips,  and  a  brave  man,  was  busily  occupied  in  trying 
to  retake  the  Issy  trenches  when  Tribert's  despatch 
arrived,  but  he  found  time  to  send  a  message  to 
Dombrowski,  urging  the  immediate  direction  of  a 
battalion  to  the  rue  Notre  Dame,  and  explaining 
how  important  that  barricade  was,  covering  as  it 
did  the  approach  to  the  Gare  Montparnasse  and  the 
Luxembourg.  So  Dombrowski  twisted  his  grey 
moustache,  scowled,  glared  at  Bergeret's  reserves, 
who  were  filling  ten  thousand  sacks  with  earth  (all 
they  were  good  for),  and  finally  galloped  to  the 
Hotel  de  Ville,  where  Tribert  received  him  in  fear 
and  trembling. 

"  I  want  a  battalion,"  said  Dombrowski ;  "  a  good 
one — none  of  the  Bergeret  kind." 

Weser,  who  was  sealing  orders  for  Tribert,  chuc 
kled  to  himself.  "  Tribert 's  got  to  go,  the  lazy  rat," 
he  thought  ;  "  how  he  will  hate  to  leave  this  sunny, 
comfortable  bureau  !  " 

404 


WESER  BIDS    TRIBERT  GOOD-NIGHT.         405 


"  There  is  the  Marine  battalion,"  began  Tribert, 
smoothly,  but  was  rudely  interrupted. 

"  D — n  the  Marine  battalion  !  "  said  General  Dom- 
browski  ;  "  they  are  a  lot  of  drunken  footpads. 
What  I  want  is  a  tried  battalion, — franc  or  guard,  I 
don't  care  which  !  Have  you  any  such  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Tribert,  sullenly. 

"  Then  you  've  got  to  take  command  of  your 
'Avengers  ' — I  can't  help  it  if  they  are  not  formed 
yet — they  are  the  flower  of  the  veterans,  and  the 
only  franc  corps  worth  their  salt,  now  that  the 
Turcos  are  gone.  I  wish  Colonel  Sarre  was  alive  !  " 

"  Thank  God,  he  's  dead, — the  feather-headed 
fool  !  "  thought  Weser. 

"  Alas,"  said  Tribert,  with  a  wily  glance  at  Weser ; 
"  it  is  true  that  Colonel  Sarre  is  dead,  but  there  still 
remains  one  of  the  bravest  of  his  captains, — a  cool, 
prudent  fellow,  but  a  fiend  incarnate  in  battle.  His 
courage  has  been  put  to  proof  at  Meudon  and  Issy, 
and  yet  to-day  this  loyal  son  of  the  Republic  is  but 
a  simple  captain,  asking  nothing,  claiming  nothing, 
only  seeking  to  do  his  duty.  You  ask  me,  General 
Dombrowski,  who  this  modest  hero  is  ?  And  I 
reply,  he  is  my  dear  comrade,  my  friend  and  more 
than  brother, — the  last  of  the  Turcos,  —  Isidore 
Weser  !  " 

Weser,  whose  expression  had  changed  slowly  for 
the  worse  while  Tribert  was  snivelling  his  eulogy, 
fairly  bounded  from  his  chair  when  his  name  was 
pronounced,  but  Tribert  gave  him  no  time  to  pro 
test. 

"  General,"  he  pleaded,  "  I  ask  that  this  gallant  man 


406  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


be  rewarded.  He  has  merited  well  of  the  Republic. 
Give  him  this  coveted  honor,  the  command  of  the 
'Avengers.'  Proud  as  I  would  be,  happy  as  you 
make  me  when  you  ask  me  to  command  the  bat 
talion  which  I  have  formed,  I  would  be  still  prouder 
and  happier  if  I  could  see  my  dear  brother  and  com 
rade  leading  the  '  Avengers  '  into  battle  !  " 

"  Stop  !  "  gasped  Weser,  in  a  cold  perspiration.  "  I 
— I  don't  wish  to — I  don't  deserve  this — this  honor  !  " 

"You  do!  Isidore,  you  do  !"  cried  Tribert,  en 
thusiastically. 

"  I  don't  !  "  snarled  Weser,  and  darted  a  terrible 
glance  at  Tribert.  Tribert  continued  to  eulogize 
him,  smiling  blandly  at  the  white  malignancy  of  his 
face,  and  finally  the  brave  old  General  interposed. 

"  You  are  too  modest,  Citizen  Weser,"  he  said,  for, 
being  brave  himself  it  never  occurred  to  him  to  sus 
pect  cowardice  in  others ;  "  you  are  too  modest  even 
for  a  brave  man.  You  have  waited  patiently  for 
recognition.  You  shall  have  it.  I  give  you  com 
mand  of  the  '  Avengers.'  Be  worthy  of  them  as 
they  will  be  worthy  of  you.  It  is  ten  o'clock.  By 
twelve  you  will  have  your  commission.  Join  your 
battalion  at  once  and  occupy  the  barricade  in  the 
rue  Notre  Dame."  Then,  returning  Tribert's  prompt 
salute,  Dombrowski  walked  away  to  find  Delescluze 
and  Ferre,  and  if  possible  to  drag  those  bloodhounds 
away  from  Rossel's  trail. 

For  a  moment  Weser  and  Tribert  eyed  each  other 
in  silence.  Weser's  face  was  green  with  suppressed 
fury,  but  Tribert,  after  a  minute,  shrugged  his  shoul 
ders  and  turned  to  his  desk. 


WESER   BIDS    TRIBERT  GOOD-NIGHT.         407 


"  You  have  played  me  a  dirty  trick!  "  said  Weser, 
in  a  passionless  voice,  but  his  eyes  were  deadly. 

"  Silence  !  "  roared  Tribert  ;  "  do  you  know  whom 
you  address  ?  " 

"  I  know,"  said  Weser. 

"  I  am  your  superior  officer — remember  that !  " 
sneered  Tribert.  Then  he  began  to  laugh.  "  You  're 
trapped  this  time,  Izzy,  sure  as  guns  are  guns !  " 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  go,"  said  Weser. 

Tribert  burst  into  shrieks  of  laughter. 

"  Of  course  you  are  !  Why,  I  can  see  martial 
ardor  burning  in  your  eyes  !  How  you  must  long  to 
bare  your  breast  to  the  Versaillist  bayonets !  Bayo 
nets  hurt.  How  you  must  yearn  for  the  bursting 
shells  !  Bullets  hurt,  too,  Izzy, — but  what  is  a  leg, 
an  arm,  an  eye,  a  face  torn  to  pieces — what  is  a 
human  life  when  one  can  give  it  for  the  glory  and — 
oh,  dear  me!  ha!  ha! — the  glory  and  honor — yes, 
honor,  Izzy, — of  the  Commune?  " 

"  May  the  God  of  Israel  curse  you  !  "  said  Weser, 
slowly.  His  eyes  were  burning  in  his  distorted  face, 
and  he  stretched  out  his  arms  in  an  agony  of  fear 
and  hate.  Then  he  went  out  of  the  room,  and  far 
down  the  street  Tribert  heard  his  sabre  clanging 
on  the  stony  pavement. 

So  Tribert  was  left  alone  to  laugh  his  fill — and 
curse  a  little  too,  for  there  was  something  in  Weser's 
voice  and  face  that  troubled  him  more  than  he  cared 
to  acknowledge.  He  was  glad  his  bureau  was  public 
property.  Officers  of  every  grade,  in  gorgeous  uni 
forms,  passed  and  repassed,  and  all  were  discussing 
the  same  thing, — the  latest  issue  of  the  Official 


408  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Journal  of  the  Commune,  or  the  "  Official,"  as  it  was 
called.  In  it  were  the  full  reports  of  the  trial  and 
sentence  of  Cluseret  before  the  Commune.  The 
Commune  had  been  in  session  that  morning,  and 
measures  of  urgency  were  voted  at  Rossel's  request. 
Day  after  day  Rigault,  Delescluze,  Billioray,  and 
Ferr£  had  urged  their  bloody  measures,  and  most  of 
them  had  been  passed.  The  death  penalty,  swift,  mer 
ciless  sentences  for  civil  and  military  offences,  the 
law  of  denunciations  and  midnight  visits  to  suspected 
houses,  the  compulsory  service  with  the  National 
Guard, — all  these  measures  had  been  passed,  and 
were  now  laws  in  full  operation.  And  still  Rigault 
demanded  more  power,  more  plunder,  more  blood  ; 
and  the  Commune  trembled  before  him. 

Perhaps  Tribert  was  thinking  of  Rigault,  perhaps 
of  some  other  unpleasant  subject,  for  he  started 
violently  when  a  small,  near-sighted  man  sat  down 
beside  him  without  ceremony,  and,  drawing  a  pair 
of  glasses  from  his  silver  slashed  jacket,  adjusted 
them  and  smiled.  It  was  Rigault. 

"Sit  down,  sit  down,  Colonel  Tribert,"  he  said, 
noticing  the  other's  involuntary  start ;  "  I  want  to 
chat  with  you  a  bit.  I  've  just  come  from  the  stance 
of  the  Commune.  They  are  beginning  to  suspect 
Dombrowski  now.  Hey  !  The  dance  goes  on,  and 
my  prisons  are  getting  too  full.  I  must  shoot  a  few 
people  to  make  room.  I  've  just  convinced  the 
Commune  that  there  are  twenty  or  thirty  gendarmes 
who  are  of  no  use  to  the  world.  They  're  sentenced, 
and  by  this  time  are  filing  out  to  be  shot.  I  'm  sorry 
to  miss  it  too,  for  there  are  a  dozen  cowardly  Na- 


WESER  BIDS    TRIBERT  GOOD-NIGHT.         409 


tional  Guards  among  the  batch  who  hate  to  die. 
Where  is  your  friend  Weser?" 

"  He  is  detailed  to  command  the  'Avengers,'  "  re 
plied  Tribert,  with  a  sickly  smile. 

"Ah — um — I  see.  So  you  escaped  and  he  was 
caught,  eh?  He's  a  coward — but  you  are  not — at 
least,  not  that  kind  of  coward.  You  merely  love 
comfort  and  good  food.  Who  detailed  him?" 

"  Dombrowski." 

"  Dombrowski  is  suspected,"  said  Rigault,  coldly  ; 
then,  "  if  I  could  shoot  ninety-nine  per  cent,  of  the 
Commune  it  would  leave  traitors  enough  and  to 
spare.  They  say — I  know  they  say  that  I  am  crazy, 
— that  I  am  blood-drunk,  but  I  know  who  the  traitors 
are !  Do  you  suppose  that  a  single  whispered  word 
escapes  my  spies?  Do  you  suppose  a  single  traitor 
ous  heart-beat  is  not  noted  in  my  '  Book  of  the 
Condemned  '  ?  I  bide  my  time." 

Tribert  stared  at  him,  mouth  ajar. 

"  I  came  to  speak  about  the  American,  Philip 
Landes,"  said  Rigault,  "  do  you  know  where  he 
is?" 

"  No,"  gasped  Tribert. 

"  I  do,"  said  Rigault. 

"  You — you  have  caught  him  !  " 

"  Yes.  Your  friend  Weser  caught  him.  He  wants 
the  reward  now." 

"  Where  is — where  is  this  American?  " 

"  In  La  Roquctte.  I  am  very  much  pleased.  I 
shall  not  shoot  him." 

"  Not  shoot  him  !  "  blurted  out  Tribert. 

"  No — I  shall  have  him  strangled — slowly."    They 


410  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


sat  silent  for  a  while,  then  Rigault  spoke  again : 
"Your  face  will  always  bear  his  marks." 

Tribert  ground  his  teeth. 

"  I  have  also  my  little  account  to  settle  with  Mon 
sieur  Landes,"  continued  Rigault,  with  a  meditative 
glance  at  Tribert's  disfigured  face. 

"  When  are  you  going  to  do  it  ?  "  demanded  Tri 
bert,  after  a  moment. 

"Do  what?" 

"  Strangle  him." 

"  Oh,  really  I  don't  know.  I  want  to  take  my 
time, — I  wish  to  give  my  personal  attention  to  it. 
The  young  man  really  merits  it.  I  am  going  to  shoot 
a  lot  of  gendarmes  and  priests  first,  to  clear  out  the 
prisons.  Then  I  'm  going  to  shoot  the  priest 
Darboy." 

"  The  Archbishop  ?" 

"  That  's  what  he  calls  himself.  After  him  there 
are  a  lot  of  others.  It  won't  be  very  amusing.  I  am 
saving  the  American  as  one  saves  a  good  morsel. 
Would  you  like  to  be  present  at  the  interview?  " 

Tribert  nodded. 

"  I  will  let  you  know  in  time.  I  shall  torture 
him,"  continued  Raoul  Rigault.  "  Have  you  heard 
any  news  of  the  de  Brassac  hussy  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Tribert,  "  it  's  a  wonder  they  were  not 
trapped  together.  Was  he  alone  ?  " 

"No — he  had  another  young  fellow  with  him  ; — 
both  were  masquerading  in  our  uniform.  But  Weser 
saw  no  traces  of  the  de  Brassac  wench." 

"  How  did  Weser  stumble  on  Landes?  "  enquired 
Tribert,  curiously. 


WESER   BIDS    TRIBERT  GOOD-NIGHT.          41 1 


"  Do  you  remember  the  day  you  sent  him  to 
Dombrowski  with  Bergeret's  despatch, — the  day 
that  the  Versaillists  outflanked  La  Cecelia  and 
knocked  Moulin-Saquet  and  the  Montrouge  fort  to 
pieces?  Well,  this  fox,  Weser,  also  went  on  a  little 
errand  of  mine  at  the  same  time,  and  that  errand 
was  to  arrest  Colonel  Wilton  of  the  266th,  who  is  in 
my  eyes  a  suspect.  He  got  him  and  packed  him  off 
to  La  Roquette,  and,  coming  back  with  his  marine 
escort,  he  had  the  luck, — the  pure  luck  to  stumble 
on  a  fugitive — a  private  in  your  old  battalion,  the 
265th,  named  Martin.  This  man  Martin  was  the 
fellow  who  was  on  guard  at  the  Impasse  de  la  Mort 
when  Landes  got  in  and  carried  away  the  de  Brassac 
girl.  Well,  Martin  had  seen  and  recognized  Landes, 
although  the  American  cur  wore  our  uniform  ;  so 
Martin,  remembering  the  reward,  and  also  having  an 
old  score  to  settle,  followed  the  American  and  his 
brother  spy,  and  when  he  saw  Weser  and  his  ma 
rines,  he  denounced  Landes,  and  led  Weser  to  where 
he  stood.  That  is  the  whole  story.  Simple,  is  n't 
it?" 

"  Yes.     Does  Martin  get  any  of  the  money  ?  " 

"Half.  Here  is  Weser's  share."  Rigault  flung  a 
bag  of  gold  coins  onto  Tribert's  desk. 

"  Weser  's  gone,"  said  Tribert. 

"  He  '11  be  back.  See  that  he  gets  his  money. 
Money  's  cheap  now.  There  is  plenty  in  the  Bank 
of  France."  Then  he  rose,  adjusted  his  sword, 
mopped  his  chin  with  a  scented  embroidered  hand 
kerchief,  and  walked  out. 

Tribert  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  his  eyes  fixed  on 


412  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


the  bag  of  gold.  He  had  sat  there  for  an  hour, 
scarcely  moving,  never  taking  his  eyes  from  the  bag, 
when  a  light  step  sounded  behind  him,  and  Weser 
reappeared  in  the  uniform  of  a  Colonel  of  the  Na 
tional  Guard.  Tribert  looked  at  him,  expecting 
another  outbreak,  but  Weser  smiled,  and  motioned 
him  to  rise. 

"  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you,"  he  said  pleasant 
ly  ;  "  come  into  the  secret  office.  Have  you  got  the 
keys  ?  " 

Tribert,  a  little  surprised,  but  willing  to  escape 
another  wrangle  with  the  man  who  was  now  his 
equal  in  rank,  fumbled  in  his  pocket  for  the  keys, 
and  produced  them.  "  I  've  got  something  to  say  to 
you  also,"  he  said,  picking  up  the  bag  of  gold,  and 
balancing  it  in  his  hand  ;  "  come  on,  Izzy."  Weser 
followed  him  down  the  broad  staircase,  through  a 
series  of  gloomy  corridors,  and  then  down  another 
staircase  to  a  landing,  closed  at  the  end  by  a  massive 
door.  Here  he  fumbled  with  his  keys  for  a  while, 
but  at  last  the  heavy  door  swung  open,  and  they 
entered  the  secret  office. 

"Whew!"  grumbled  Tribert;  "that  door  is 
heavy  !  " 

"  How  thick  are  the  walls  ?  "  asked  Weser. 

"  Thick  enough  to  deaden  the  screams  of  the 
damned.  Nobody  can  hear  us  now.  Sit  down." 

The  room  contained  a  table  and  a  dozen  chairs. 
In  the  corner  stood  a  sink.  Two  quaintly  wrought 
faucets  dripped  water  into  the  iron  basin,  and  the 
constant  drop  !  drop !  drop  !  irritated  Tribert.  He 
tried  to  turn  the  faucets  entirely  around,  but  they 


WESER  BIDS    TRIBERT  GOOD-NIGHT.         413 


stuck  fast,  and  the  water  continued  dripping  with 
solemn  regularity. 

Weser  had  closed  and  bolted  the  door,  and  now 
sat  before  the  iron  table,  his  pointed  ferret-like  face 
in  his  hands,  his  black  eyes  roaming  restlessly  about 
the  room. 

"  I  have  never  before  been  here,"  he  said  ;  "  what 
is  that  ring  in  the  floor  for?" 

"That  iron  ring?     Oh,  it  lifts  a  slab  of  stone." 

"What's  there?" 

"  Down  there  ?     The  river." 

"  Under  the  floor  here?  " 

"  Yes.  D— n  this  faucet ;  I  can't  turn  it.  What 
do  you  want  to  see  me  about,  Izzy?"  He  came 
and  sat  down  opposite  Weser,  and  lighted  a  cigar. 
"What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  I  want  to  know  what  you  honestly  think  of  the 
chances  of  the  Commune, — for  one  thing." 

"Well,  Izzy,  as  we  are  alone,  and  no  witnesses  at 
the  keyhole,  I  can  safely  say  that  the  jig  is  up." 

"You  think  so?  " 

"  I  'm  sure.  Only  a  compromise  with  Thiers  can 
save  our  necks." 

"Why?" 

"  WThy  ?  Look  at  the  Issy  fort !  Look  at  the 
viaduct  of  the  Point-du-Jour !  Look  how  they 
sunk  our  gun-boats !  Look  at  the  forts  of  Mont- 
rouge,  the  battery  of  Moulin-Saquet,  bastion  num 
ber  seventy !  Do  you  know  the  Versaillists  are 
running  their  parallels  within  a  few  metres  of  the 
enciente  ?  They  are  already  in  the  Bois  de  Bou 
logne." 


414  THE   RED   REPUBLIC. 


"  So  are  we — in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne." 

"Yes,  and  we  are  quitting  it  in  a  hurry  too.  The 
shells  are  falling  all  about  the  Arc-de-Triomphe,  the 
shells  are  digging  holes  in  the  Boulevard  des  Ita- 
liens.  Our  only  hope  is  behind  the  barricades." 

"And  then?" 

"  Then  ?  Then  if  they  take  the  barricades,  we  can 
burn  the  city,  blow  up  everything  behind  us,  and 
run  for  the  German  lines.  The  Prussians  are  neutral. 
Is  that  all  you  wanted  of  me  ?  " 

"  All — for  the  present.  What  do  you  want  of 
me?" 

"  Nothing — a  trifle.  I  hear  you  have  been  earning 
a  reward."  Weser  raised  his  eyebrows.  "  A  fat 
reward,"  continued  Tribert,  "  in  the  service  of  Raoul 
Rigault." 

"Yes." 

"You  never  told  me,  Izzy." 

"What  of  it?" 

"  Oh,  nothing.  I  might  have  shared  the  reward 
with  you  if  you  had." 

"  The  reward  is  mine.  Where  is  the  money  ? " 
said  Weser. 

"  In  my  pocket,  Izzy.  Half  of  the  reward  went 
to  Martin,  half  I  keep." 

"  It  's  mine,"  said  Weser,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  But  you  will  give  it  to  me,"  sneered  Tribert, 
"  won't  you,  Izzy  ?  " 

"  Give  me  the  money,"  said  Weser  again. 

"  I  'm  sure  you  '11  give  it  to  me,  unless  you  care  to 
have  it  known  that  Pagot  died  with  a  knife  in  his 
back,"  grinned  Tribert. 


WESER  BIDS  TRIBERT  GOOD-NIGHT.          415 


For  a  moment  Weser's  face  was  awful  to  see. 
Then  a  ghastly  smile  stretched  his  mouth.  "  Oh,  if 
you  put  it  in  that  way  I  suppose  I  must  not  find 
fault,"  he  said,  with  the  slightest  quaver  in  his  voice. 
"  You  can  keep  the  money."  Tribert  grinned  again. 

''Thanks,"  he  said,  rising  and  walking  toward  the 
door.  "  Are  you  coming,  Izzy  ?  " 

"  Not  yet." 

"  No  ?     Well,  good-bye  then." 

He  bowed  ironically,  and  touched  his  cap  in  salute. 
"  Good-night,  Colonel  Weser." 

"  Good-night,"  said  Weser,  and  shot  him  through 
the  back. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

HUSBAND  AND   WIFE. 

THE  crash  of  the  revolver  in  the  stone  room  set 
Weser's  ears  tingling,  the  pungent  powder 
vapors  stung  his  eyes  and  choked  him.  Lit 
tle  by  little  the  smoke  floated  to  the  black  ceiling, 
where  it  wavered  in  broad  bands,  drifting  and  set 
tling  like  filmy  cobwebs.  Through  the  silence  of 
the  sealed  chamber  the  water  in  the  sink  dripped, 
dripped,  dripped,  until  the  sound  seemed  to  grow 
like  rain  increasing  with  the  wind.  His  whitened 
fingers  still  clutched  the  revolver,  but  now  his  wrist 
began  to  ache,  and  he  laid  the  weapon  on  the  table 
softly.  His  eyes  had  never  left  the  bleeding,  dusty 
heap  before  the  door,  and  presently  he  rose  and  bent 
above  it.  Then  he  rolled  it  over  with  his  foot. 
Death  was  stamped  on  the  loose  face  and  glazing 
eyes. 

When  he  had  searched  the  body, — a  task  which  he 
hated,  for  Weser  disliked  to  touch  the  dead, — he 
dragged  what  had  once  been  his  comrade  to  the 
square  slab  in  the  floor,  and  seizing  the  iron  ring, 
lifted  the  slab.  From  the  black  depths  a  foul  odor 
crept.  It  nauseated  him,  and  he  seized  the  corpse 
by  the  feet  and  pushed  it  he^d-foremost  into  the 

416 


HUSBAND  AND    WIFE. 

hole.  Then  he  turned  on  the  water  in  the  sink, 
mopped  up  the  lake  of  bright  red  blood  with  the 
table  covering,  and  flung  it  into  the  hole. 

When  he  had  washed  his  hands  and  replaced  the 
slab  in  the  stone  floor,  he  counted  the  twenty-franc 
pieces  in  the  bag,  carefully  arranging  them  in  piles 
of  ten  each.  Several  were  badly  defaced,  and  he 
rubbed  his  thumb  nail  over  them,  whistling  under 
his  breath.  Then  he  examined  the  plunder  taken 
from  Tribert's  pockets.  In  one  pile  he  placed  a  hand 
some  American  watch,  a  gold  pencil  case,  a  silver- 
handled  knife,  a  bunch  of  keys,  and  a  gold-rimmed 
wallet  stuffed  with  twenty-franc  pieces.  A  handful 
of  silver  coins  he  dropped  into  his  own  pocket,  and 
then  sat  down  to  read  the  letters  and  papers  ;  but 
they  were  unpleasantly  smeared  with  blood,  and  he 
finally  took  them,  together  with  a  revolver,  a  sabre, 
a  bundle  of  order  blanks,  and  a  tobacco  pouch  stuffed 
with  cigarette  materials,  and  dropped  them  into  the 
hole.  For  a  moment  he  stooped,  listening  to  the 
faint  clash  of  the  sabre  as  it  struck  the  sides  of  the 
well,  then  the  odor  of  death  and  decay  sickened 
him,  and  he  once  more  replaced  the  iron-ringed  slab. 
When  he  had  washed  his  hands  again,  and  had  pock 
eted  the  plunder  from  Tribert's  corpse,  he  was  ready 
to  go ;  and  he  went,  humming  a  tune. 

At  the  street  gate  below  he  halted  a  moment.  Some 
where  in  the  city,  across  the  Seine,  the  drums  were 
beating  the  alarm,  and  the  tocsin  added  its  clamor 
to  the  rising  tumult.  His  battalion,  the  "Aven 
gers,"  lay  behind  the  barricades  across  the  river. 
Should  he  join  it  ?  For  a  moment  he  hesitated,  then 


41 8  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


turned  in  the  opposite  direction,  walking  swiftly, 
holding  his  sabre  tightly  under  his  left  arm. 

The  day  was  Sunday,  the  2ist  of  May,  or,  as  the 
Commune  styled  it,  "  3rd  Prairial  of  the  year  79." 
It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  fury  of  the 
bombardment  had  slackened  toward  the  Point-du- 
Jour,  now  merely  a  heap  of  smoking  ruins  ;  for  the 
Versaillist  batteries  had  riddled  the  viaduct,  driven 
away  or  sunk  the  gun-boats  under  its  arches,  and  had 
cleared  the  neighboring  bastions  of  men  and  can 
non.  The  fort  of  Montrouge  and  the  batteries  at 
Moulin-Saquet  still  replied  to  the  Versailles  bat 
teries,  or  flung  their  shells  among  the  thickets  of 
the  Bois-de-Boulogne :  and  Delescluze,  now  delegue' 
civil  a  la  guerre,  was  very  well  satisfied  with  his 
inspection  of  these  forts,  and  the  enceinte  of  the 
south  and  east. 

The  rue  Notre  Dame  had  so  far  escaped  the  shells, 
but  on  the  2ist  of  May,  at  five  o'clock  in  the  after 
noon,  a  huge  projectile  appeared  in  the  sky  above  the 
Pont  Neuf.  Shrieking,  hissing,  it  fell  in  the  Luxem 
bourg  Gardens,  and  exploded  among  a  group  of 
children  and  nurse-maids.  Then  horror  multiplied 
on  horror ;  the  air  was  rent  by  howling  shells,  and 
the  crash  of  explosions  drowned  the  shrieks  of  in 
nocent  women  and  children. 

The  "  Avengers  "  massed  behind  the  barricade  on 
the  rue  Notre  Dame  heard  the  tumult  and  waited 
impatiently  for  their  new  Colonel,  Weser. 

"  The  shells  will  be  falling  among  us  before  long," 
they  growled  ;  "  we  won't  stay  here  to  be  decimated 
without  firing  a  shot." 


HUSBAND  AND    WIFE.  419 


"We  want  our  Colonel!"  clamored  the  officers, 
angrily,  as  a  shell  struck  a  house  at  the  bottom  of 
the  rue  Vavin  and  exploded  with  a  startling 
"  bang-g-g !  " 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  your  Colonel  is  a  coward," 
observed  a  man  wearing  a  red  ribbon  across  his 
breast. 

"  That  's  it !  A  coward  !  a  coward  !  "  shouted  the 
soldiers,  lifting  their  rifles  above  their  heads  and 
shaking  them  with  rage.  "  Give  us  a  leader  !  Give 
us  a  man  !  To  the  fortifications !  to  the  fortifica 
tions  !  " 

"  I  will  lead  you,"  said  the  man  who  wore  the  red 
sash  across  his  breast. 

"  What  's  your  name  ?  "   yelled  an  officer. 

"  Delescluze,  delegu£  civil  a  la  guerre,  citizens  !  " 

Then  the  troops  broke  into  maddening  shouts  of 
joy,  and  the  drums  rolled  from  the  rue  Vavin. 

"  Delescluze  !  Delescluze  !  Forward  !  He  will 
lead  us  into  fire  !  "  they  howled,  and  the  rue  Notre 
Dame  echoed  with  the  confused  din  of  departure. 

From  the  iron  gateway  of  a  court-yard,  half  way 
up  the  street,  a  face,  with  two  frightened  eyes, 
appeared,  cautiously  reconnoitring.  As  the 
"Avengers,"  company  after  company,  tramped  away 
through  the  rue  Notre  Dame  and  swung  into  the 
rue  Vavin  cheering  for  Delescluze  and  the  Com 
mune,  the  face  was  thrust  farther  and  farther  from 
the  gate  ;  and  at  last,  as  the  rear  of  the  battalion 
disappeared  around  the  corner  of  the  Convent,  the 
head,  shoulders,  and  finally  the  whole  body  of  the 
anxious  watcher  appeared.  It  was  Joseph  Lelocard, 


420  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


concierge  to  Philip  Landes.  Trouble  and  fright 
had  paled  Joseph's  features.  His  face,  now  thin 
and  unkempt,  worked  convulsively  for  a  moment, 
then  he  turned  hastily  back  into  the  alley  and,  gal 
loping  through  the  garden,  entered  the  studio  with 
out  knocking.  Ellice  was  sitting  before  the  empty 
fireplace,  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  he  looked  up, 
startled,  as  Joseph  entered. 

"What  in  Heaven's  name —  he  began,  but 
Joseph's  face  was  radiant,  and  he  swung  his  arms 
about  his  head  in  a  delirium  of  joy. 

"  The  Federals  have  gone  !  Oh,  Monsieur  Jack, 
they  have  gone  !  Not  a  single  Communard  remains 
in  the  rue  Notre  Dame!  You  do  not  believe  me! 
You  turn  pale  and  tremble  !  Yet  I,  Joseph  Lelo- 
card,  say  it — they  have  gone !  " 

"  What  is  it,  Monsieur  Ellice  ?  "  cried  Marguerite, 
coming  to  the  balcony  of  the  room  above.  She  was 
very  pale  but  more  beautiful  than  ever. 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Saint-Brieuc,"  stammered  El 
lice,  "  Joseph  says  the  Federals  have  gone." 

"  Come  for  yourself  and  see,  Monsieur  Ellice, — 
come  and  see,  Mademoiselle  de  Saint-Brieuc, — it  is 
as  I  say  !  " 

"  If  they  have  gone — really  gone  this  time,"  said 
Marguerite,  slowly,  "  we  should  not  lose  a  single 
moment.  For  the  man  who  got  into  the  garden 
yesterday  was  a  spy ;  there  can  be  no  doubt  about 
it,  and  Raoul  Rigault  will  not  leave  us  in  peace  for 
many  hours  more." 

"  I  fear  he  was  a  spy,"  said  Ellice  ;  "  I  have  tried 
not  to  be  anxious  or  frighten  you,  but  I  have  no 


HUSBAND  AND    WIFE.  421 


doubt  that  he  was  here  from  Rigault's  police.  We 
ought  to  leave  this  place  at  once.  How  soon  can 
you  get  ready  ?  " 

"  I  am  ready,"  she  replied. 

"  Mademoiselle  is  right ;  it  is  better  not  to  take 
anything  with  you  through  the  streets,"  said  Joseph. 

"  Then  come  quickly,"  cried  Ellice,  putting  on  his 
hat ;  "  I  have  all  the  money  with  me." 

Marguerite  ran  down  the  stairs  into  the  studio, 
and  they  walked  hastily  through  the  garden,  Joseph 
following. 

"  Good-bye,  Mademoiselle ;  good-bye,  Monsieur," 
he  said,  while  the  tears  ran  over  his  cheeks  ;  "  I  will 
take  good  care  of  the  studio  and  the  puppy.  If  God 
wills  it,  you  will  come  back  and  bring  my  poor, 
dear  Monsieur  Philip  and — and — Mademoiselle  de 
Brassac "—  he  was  blubbering  outright  now,  and 
Ellice  shook  his  hard  hand  silently. 

"  We  will  come  back,  my  good  Joseph,"  said  Mar 
guerite,  with  tears  in  her  eyes ;  and  followed  Ellice 
into  the  rue  Notre  Dame.  Ten  minutes  later,  as 
Joseph  stood  in  the  doorway  of  his  lodge,  contem 
plating  a  bone  which  Toodles  had  recently  disin 
terred  from  a  flower  bed,  a  file  of  National  Guards 
entered  the  alley-way  and  halted  before  him.  But 
it  was  two  late,  the  birds  were  on  the  wing,  and 
Ferre,  who  led  the  file  of  soldiers,  retired,  menacing 
Joseph  with  future  punishment  in  case  it  was  proved 
that  he  knew  of  the  fugitives'  flight.  For  Joseph 
had  done  the  idiot  act  to  perfection,  and  Ferre,  mut 
tering  "  imbecile,  cretin,  idiot !  "  went  out  banging 
the  gate  violently. 


422  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


By  half-past  five  o'clock  Ellice  and  Marguerite 
had  managed  to  reach  the  Trocadero.  Their  path 
to  the  American  Legation  was  a  tortuous  one,  for 
barricades  cut  the  streets  everywhere,  and  long, 
weary  detours  were  necessary. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ellice ;  "  this  seems  to  be 
almost  hopeless.  Here  we  are  at  the  Trocadero  and 
not  the  slightest  prospect  of  getting  any  nearer  to 
Mr.  Washburn." 

"Ah,  if  his  Excellency  only  knew!"  sighed  Mar 
guerite.  Then  in  a  low  voice  she  continued  :  "  Don't 
look,  Jack,  but  a  man  is  watching  us  from  the 
kiosque  behind  you.  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  Is  it  a  Federal  soldier  ?  " 

"  No — a  citizen  ;  oh,  he  is  coming  !  " 

Ellice  turned  and  faced  the  man,  who  was  now 
close  to  them. 

"  Whom  are  you  seeking  in  this  quarter,  citizen  ?  " 
asked  the  man,  politely  lifting  his  hat. 

Ellice  did  not  answer. 

"  You  appear  to  be  lost,"  said  the  man.  "  Are  you 
looking  for  any  street  to  which  I  may  be  able  to 
direct  you  ?  " 

"No,  Monsieur — '  began  Marguerite  —  then 
bit  her  lip,  for  she  had  forgotten  to  say  "  Citizen  " 
instead  of  "  Monsieur,"  and  the  man  would  know 
that  they  were  either  suspects  or  fugitives. 

Then  the  man  began  to  laugh.  "  Do  not  be 
alarmed,  Madame,"  he  said,  "  I  also  belong  to  your 
party.  My  name  is  Ducatel,  Conducteur  des  Fonts 
et  Chausees.  You  can  speak  freely.  Can  I  aid  you  ?  " 

"  Indeed  you  can,"    said   Ellice,    "  if  you  really 


HUSBAND  AND    WIFE.  423 


mean  it.  We  are  homeless.  Can  you  give  us  a  roof 
for  the  night  ?  " 

"  I  would  be  very  happy  to  do  so.  I  live  near 
the  Point-du-Jour,  but  in  my  house  the  cellar  is  the 
safest  place  just  now.  If  you  will  do  me  the  honor 
to  follow  me,  I  will  lead  you  there  in  twenty  min 
utes,"  said  Ducatel,  pleasantly. 

Ellice  was  inclined  to  be  suspicious  of  Monsieur 
Ducatel  and  his  offer,  and  said  so  frankly. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  "  laughed  the  Frenchman,  "it  is 
your  affair.  I  regret  that  these  times  make  friends 
seem  like  enemies,  but  I  can  only  offer  you  what  I 
have." 

"  Then  we  accept  your  offer,"  said  Ellice,  a  little 
ashamed  ;  and  he  and  Marguerite  followed  Monsieur 
Ducatel  toward  the  Point-du-Jour. 

"  Do  you  not  think  it  is  strange  that  we  meet  no 
Federal  troops?"  said  Ducatel,  after  they  had  been 
walking  for  ten  minutes  in  silence.  Ellice  looked 
about  him.  It  was  twilight.  The  long  rows  of 
empty  streets  stretched  away  into  Paris,  and  in  the 
lamps  no  lights  appeared.  The  houses  stood  up  on 
every  side,  black,  battered,  and  deserted.  He  began 
to  realize  the  desolation  of  the  scene  and  glanced  at 
Ducatel. 

The  Frenchman  hurried  on,  growing  more  and 
more  excited  as  he  neared  the  fortifications. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  cried,  "  I  believe  the  Federals 
have  abandoned  the  quarter !  See  the  marks  that 
the  shells  leave, — everywhere  ruin  and  destruction, 
— ha  !  there  is  a  barricade  ;  can  you  see  any  move 
ment  behind  it  ?  " 


424  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  It  is  abandoned,"  said  Ellice,  quickly,  catching 
the  excitement. 

"Then — do  you  know  that  nothing  is  here  to  prevent 
the  entry  of  the  Versailles  troops !  "  cried  Ducatel. 
"  It  seems  incredible  that  the  Federals  should  leave 
the  ramparts.  Just  look  how  battered  they  are ! 
That  breach  would  be  wide  enough  in  a  few  days  at 
any  rate.  What  a  chance  the  Versaillists  have — if 
they  only  knew  it !  " 

"  Suppose  we  try  to  attract  their  attention,"  said 
Marguerite. 

Ducatel  looked  at  her.  Then  he  drew  out  his 
handkerchief  and  tied  it  to  the  end  of  his  umbrella. 

"  Madame  is  right,"  he  said  eagerly,  "  we  can  try. 
The  Versaillists  are  not  two  hundred  metres  from  the 
bastions. 

Ellice  and  Marguerite  started  to  follow  him  to  the 
ramparts  but  he  waved  them  back. 

"  They  may  fire,"  he  said,  "  why  risk  three 
lives  ?  " 

"  Is  it  necessary  to  mount  the  ramparts  ?  "  asked 
Marguerite  ;  "  why  not  try  to  signal  them  from  the 
gate  there  ?  " 

"  Better  still,"  muttered  Ducatel. 

Ellice  and  Marguerite  helped  him  drag  the  iron 
grille  open  and  then  the  Frenchman  stepped  along 
the  massive  sally-port,  peering  anxiously  out  through 
the  twilight  into  the  country  beyond.  Ellice  and 
Marguerite  were  too  excited  to  stay  behind,  and 
presently  the  three  stood  on  the  extreme  edge  of  the 
moat,  waving  handkerchiefs  and  hats  in  the  direction 
of  the  Versailles  trenches.  One  by  one  a  dozen  dark 


HUSBAND  AND    WIFE.  42$ 


heads  bobbed  up  from  the  rifle  pits  and  Ellice  caught 
the  glitter  of  musket  barrels  in  the  starlight. 

"  Go  back,  Mademoiselle,"  he  said  hastily,  "  they 
may  fire  !  "  but  Marguerite  refused. 

The  minutes  passed  and  the  dark  forms  in  the  dis 
tant  trenches  increased  in  number,  but  no  answering 
signals  came  back.  Ducatel  was  in  despair.  "  Ten 
to  one  they  think  it  a  trick  !"  he  said  bitterly  ;  "you, 
Madame,  and  you  also,  Monsieur,  should  not  expose 
yourselves,  for  I,  for  my  part,  expect  a  volley." 
Ellice  tried  to  lead  Marguerite  back  to  the  shelter 
of  the  gateway,  but  she  refused  obstinately  and 
swung  her  handkerchief  in  desperation. 

"  They  must  understand  !  "  she  kept  repeating, 
"  oh  !  do  you  not  think  they  will  ?  "  Then,  as  they 
looked,  a  form  leaped  from  the  trenches,  bearing 
aloft  a  white  rag  tied  to  a  sabre. 

"  They  understand  !  They  are  coming  !  "  cried 
Ellice. 

Ducatel  waved  his  umbrella  frantically.  Nearer 
and  nearer  came  the  grey  figure,  and  now  they  heard 
a  challenge  shouted  across  the  fields ;  "  Don't  fire  ! 
Officer  with  flag  of  truce !  " 

"  Thank  God  !  "  sobbed  Marguerite. 

Ducatel  sprang  forward  on  the  causeway,  and 
Ellice  saw  him  join  the  Versailles  officer  in  the 
middle  of  the  field.  The  meeting  was  unmistakably 
cordial,  for  he  saw  Ducatel  fling  himself  into  the 
officer's  arms  and  embrace  him  vigorously.  Then 
a  whistle  sounded  and  out  of  the  trenches  sprang 
masses  of  men,  and  before  Ellice  had  time  to  think, 
they  were  pouring  across  the  causeway  to  the  shat 
tered  sally-port. 


426  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Is  it  deserted  ?  "  cried  an  officer,  incredulously. 

"Yes!  Yes!  Hurry!"  replied  Ellice,  laughing 
with  joy ;  "  there  's  not  a  Federal  in  the  Trocadero 
quarter  !  " 

From  the  star-lit  fields  outside  the  trenches,  long 
dark  columns  now  appeared,  infantry  and  artillery, 
and  presently  a  field  battery  clanked  through  the 
sally-port.  Ellice  drew  Marguerite  aside  to  let  it 
pass.  She  was  weeping  now,  for  the  joy  of  sudden 
deliverance  was  too  great.  As  they  watched  the 
passing  cannon,  out  from  the  throng  and  press  of 
horsemen  a  cavalier  trotted,  holding  a  torch.  The 
glimmering  light  fell  full  on  men  and  cannon,  and 
Ellice  smiled  silent  greetings  to  many  a  bronzed 
artilleryman,  bumping  in  through  the  gateway.  The 
batteries  rumbled  past,  and  an  officer,  riding  a  fiery 
black  charger,  attempted  to  cut  out  ahead  of  the 
caissons. 

"  Go  back  !  "  said  Ellice,  "  you  will  crush  us  !  "  But 
Marguerite  sprang  forward  and  caught  at  his  stirrup. 

"Alain  !  "  she  cried,  "  oh,  Alain  !  " 

The  officer  bent  in  his  stirrups  and,  seizing  the 
girl,  swung  her  to  the  saddle  in  front  of  him.  Then 
raising  his  hand,  he  shouted,  "  Halt !  halt !  "  and  the 
long  file  of  guns  and  caissons  stopped. 

"  What  is  the  trouble,  Captain  de  Carette  ?  "  cried 
an  officer  hurrying  up  from  the  rear. 

"  No  trouble,  Major — my  wife  was  in  danger  for  a 
moment.  Wait  until  I  take  her  out  ahead  of  the 
train — now  you  can  order  them  forward." 

And  so  Captain  Alain  de  Carette  rode  into  Paris 
at  the  head  of  his  battery  with  his  fainting  wife  on  his 
saddle-bow. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE    VIVANDIERE  OF  THE  66TH. 

ON  the  night  of  the  twenty-second  of  May,  forty 
prisoners  were  hurriedly  transferred  from 
the  Mazas  Prison  to  the  prison  of  La  Grande 
Roquette.  Of  these  forty,  Monseigneur  Darboy, 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  was  the  most  important  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Commune  ;  the  least  important  were 
Philip  Landes  and  Jeanne  de  Brassac. 

That  morning,  as  Delescluze,  delegue  civil  a  la 
guerre,  sat  consulting  with  Raoul  Rigault  in  the 
Hotel  de  Ville,  a  messenger  arrived  breathless  with 
the  news  that  the  Versaillists  were  in  Paris. 

Rigault  bellowed  his  astonishment,  but  Deles 
cluze,  scornfully  discrediting  the  news,  jumped  into 
a  carriage  and  drove  rapidly  toward  the  Trocade"ro 
to  see  for  himself.  An  hour  later  he  returned,  hag 
gard  and  anxious. 

"  The  gate  of  the  Point-du-Jour  was  abandoned 
last  night,"  he  said,  "  and  the  enemy  hold  the  Tro- 
cadero !  " 

"  Then,"  replied  Rigault,  coolly,  "  I  must  hurry 
my  executions.  Where  is  Colonel  Weser  ?  " 

"  Deserted,"  said  Delescluze,  in  a  low  voice. 

"You  'd  better  inform  the  Commune,"  returned 
Rigault ;  "  au  revoir,  I  'm  going  to  shoot  a  few 

427 


428  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


priests,"  and  he  walked  away  toward  the  Mazas 
Prison. 

Delescluze  called  Fortin  and  told  him  all. 

"  They  can  never  pass  the  barricades  !  "  growled 
Fortin,  but  Ferre,  yelling  like  a  lunatic,  burst  into 
the  council  chamber  of  the  Commune,  shaking  his 
fists  and  rolling  his  bloodshot  eyes. 

"Treachery!  Treachery  !"  he  shouted  ;  "theVer- 
saillists  are  in  Paris  !  " 

The  Commune  rose  in  a  body,  angry,  incredu 
lous. 

"  Who  dared  say  it?"  thundered  Sicard,  his  face 
distorted  with  passion. 

"  To  the  barricades !  "  cried  another,  and  pande 
monium  broke  loose  in  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

Then  began  that  horrible  seven  days'  fight  in  the 
streets  of  Paris,  where  thirty-five  thousand  Federals 
were  butchered  by  the  Versailles  troops.  In  three 
divisions  MacMahon's  army  encircled  the  city,  and 
hour  by  hour  the  circle  contracted,  leaving  heaps  of 
corpses,  and  gutters  pouring  blood  into  the  over 
flowing  sewers.  Street  after  street,  barricade  after 
barricade  fell,  and  inch  by  inch  Thiers'  army  fought 
its  way  through  Paris  amid  the  frenzied  acclamations 
of  the  citizens,  while  the  Commune,  retreating  from 
the  blood-wet  barricades,  turned  savagely  on  the 
people  with  torch  and  sword. 

Heavy  explosions  shook  the  city  to  its  founda 
tions ;  the  splendid  rue  Royale  was  blazing,  and  the 
Ministry  of  Finance,  its  noble  facade  dripping  with 
petroleum,  caught  fire  and  sent  a  roaring  pillar  of 
flame  into  the  sky.  Ruffians  from  Belleville  and 


THE    VIVANDIERE    OF   THE   66  TH.  429 

the  Faubourgs  dashed  pails  of  petroleum  over  mu 
seums  and  palaces,  or  pumped  it  out  of  fire-engines, 
directing  streams  of  kerosene  from  the  great  fire 
hose,  over  wall,  roof,  and  spire.  The  Tuileries  vom 
ited  flames  from  every  window,  the  Louvre,  the 
Palais  Royale,  the  Conseil  d'Etat,  the  Palace  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor,  all  were  burning.  An  enormous 
mushroom-shaped  cloud  hung  over  Paris,  hiding  the 
sun,  and  through  the  pall  of  smoke  and  dust 
plunged  the  shells  from  Mont-Valerien,  whistling, 
shrieking,  bursting,  and  crashing,  among  the  barri 
cades,  drowning  the  fierce  roar  of  the  flames  and 
rattle  of  musketry.  The  Palais  de  Justice  sank  to 
the  ground,  a  heap  of  glowing  coals,  through  which 
the  Sainte-Chapelle  showed  intact.  When  the  Pre 
fecture  of  Police  began  to  pour  out  volumes  of  thick 
black  smoke,  Raoul  Rigault  sauntered  out  of  it  with 
a  sneer  on  his  lips. 

A  man,  standing  all  alone  on  the  corner  opposite, 
watched  the  conflagration  with  satisfaction  until  the 
66th  battalion  of  Federals  appeared  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  street  closely  pressed  by  a  body  of  Ver 
sailles  dragoons.  Then  the  man,  who  wore  the 
uniform  of  an  insurgent  staff-officer,  started  to  run, 
but  his  progress  was  interrupted  by  a  fresh  influx  of 
Federals  from  the  opposite  end  of  the  street,  and  he 
struggled  for  a  moment  to  disengage  himself. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Citizen?"  cried  a  young 
girl  whom  he  had  jostled.  She  was  dressed  in  the 
uniform  of  a  regimental  Vivandiere,  and  carried  her 
left  hand  in  a  sling. 

"  Tiens,  it 's  Isidor  Weser  !  "  she  added,  angrily  ; 


430  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  running  away  too.  This  won't  do,  you  know, 
Citizen  Weser ! " 

"  Let  me  alone  !  "  panted  Weser,  starting  to  run 
again. 

"  Stop  him  !  "  cried  the  Vivandiere,  "  he  is  desert 
ing  in  the  face  of  the  enemy  !  " 

"  I  '11  fix  you,  Faustine  Courtois !  "  snarled  Weser, 
trembling  with  fright,  and  he  struck  at  her  savagely 
with  the  hilt  of  his  sabre.  The  blow  fell  on  the 
interposed  barrel  of  a  rifle,  and  two  Federal  soldiers 
seized  him  by  the  collar. 

"  Oh,  he  strikes  at  the  Commune,  does  he  ?  "  cried 
a  soldier,  snatching  a  revolver  from  his  red  sash, 
"let  us  settle  this  gentleman's  affair!  " 

Before  he  could  fire,  however,  he  was  knocked  off 
his  feet  by  a  sudden  stampede  of  the  insurgents. 
The  Versailles  dragoons  were  among  them,  sabring, 
shooting,  trampling,  but  the  66th  battalion  rallied 
and  threw  themselves  on  the  horsemen  like  wild 
beasts,  howling,  bayoneting,  tearing  tooth  and  nail 
until  the  dragoons  wheeled  and  fled. 

There  was  a  barricade  on  the  rue  Caumartin,  and 
to  that  refuge  the  fragments  of  the  66th  surged, 
Weser  among  them,  bleeding,  dishevelled,  and  ter 
ribly  frightened. 

Faustine,  one  hand  in  a  sling,  a  revolver  in  the 
other,  marched  behind  him,  her  pretty  face  pale  but 
determined.  The  Federals  threw  themselves  behind 
the  barricade,  thrusting  their  smoke-stained  rifles 
over  the  top,  glaring  furiously  toward  the  distant 
corner  where  their  comrades'  corpses  lay  heaped 
among  the  stiffening  horses  of  dead  dragoons. 


THE    VIVANDIERE    OF    THE   66  TH.  431 

Faustine  cast  a  scornful  glance  at  Weser,  mounted 
the  barricade,  and  turned  to  the  soldiers  below. 

"Brothers,"  she  said,  quietly,  "the  assassins  are 
here, — the  assassins  of  Versailles !  They  bring  us 
death  or  slavery.  Choose  !  " 

"  Death  !  "  cried  the  insurgents — •"  down  with  the 
Royalists  !  Vive  la  Commune  !  " 

"  Vive  la  Republique !  "  echoed  the  girl  in  a  clear 
voice. 

At  that  moment  a  staff  officer,  who  walked  very 
unsteadily,  entered  the  barricade  from  the  rear  and 
attempted  to  pass  the  sentinels. 

"  Qui  vive  !  "  they  demanded. 

"  Go  to  h — 1 !  "  replied  the  officer,  attempting  to 
draw  his  sabre. 

"  Citizen,"  cried  Faustine,  "  you  can't  pass  without 
the  countersign." 

"Hey!  Shut  up,  you  hussy!"  he  shouted,  and 
added  a  gross  insult.  Faustine  stood  silent,  the  hot 
flush  of  shame  staining  her  neck  and  cheeks. 

"  Drunken  fool,"  sneered  Rigault,  tripping  him  up, 
and  shot  him  to  death  as  he  sprawled  in  the  gutter. 
Then  he  hurried  away,  saying  :  "  Bayonet  that  man 
Weser,  I  am  going  to  shoot  some  priests." 

They  hunted  high  and  low  for  Weser,  and  finally 
found  him  hiding  under  a  gabion.  "  To  the  wall ! 
To  the  wall!"  they  cried.  "Death  to  cowards!" 
Weser  fought,  biting  and  scratching,  to  the  foot  of 
the  blood-spattered  wall,  but  as  they  jerked  him  to 
his  feet,  a  cry  arose  :  "  Look  out !  the  Line  !  "  and  the 
lower  end  of  the  street  was  filled  with  Versailles 
sharpshooters.  In  an  instant  the  barricade  spurted 


43 2  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


flame  and  the  field-piece  crashed  out,  hurling  a  storm 
of  canister  over  the  pavement.  Weser  lay  quite  still 
for  a  moment,  then  cautiously  dragged  himself  to 
the  vestibule  of  the  opposite  house  and  curled  up  in 
the  darkest  corner. 

The  fusilade  from  the  barricade  had  swept  the 
Versailles  infantry  off  the  pavement,  but  they  still 
fired  from  the  corner  of  the  street  and  bright  jets  of 
flame  shot  from  the  closed  blinds  of  the  houses  on 
either  side  of  the  rue  Caumartin.  Presently  muffled 
explosions  told  the  Federals  that  the  enemy  were 
blowing  their  way  through  the  house  walls  to  out 
flank  them. 

"  Never  mind  !  Courage  !  "  cried  Faustine,  "  the 
barricade  will  hold  in  front.  Turn  your  cannon  on 
that  yellow  house,  citizen  Faure  !  " 

"  They  will  try  the  bayonet  soon,"  said  Genton, 
who  had  just  entered  the  barricade  with  his  secretary, 
Fortin. 

"  Let  them  !  "  smiled  Faustine. 

"  They  take  no  prisoners,"  said  Sicard  ;  "  the  six 
poor  fellows  whom  they  captured  an  hour  ago  were 
shoved  against  the  first  wall  without  mercy." 

"  Very  well,"  cried  Genton  ;  "  we  also  can  shoot. 
What  is  Rigault  doing  with  his  hundreds  of  priests 
and  gendarmes?  Why  don't  he  shoot  six  prisoners 
also?" 

"  It  's  a  good  time  to  settle  the  Archbishop ! " 
suggested  Sicard. 

"  Then  let  us  settle  him  !  "  urged  Fortin.  "  Here, 
Sicard,  come  with  Genton  and  me.  Take  half  a  dozen 
volunteers  and  we  '11  find  Ferre  and  get  the  order." 


THE    VIVANDIERE   OF    THE   66 TH.  433 


Faustina,  standing  on  the  barricade,  heard  Fortin's 
threat  and  protested.  "  Citizen  Fortin,  you  are 
doing  a  shameful  thing !  " 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  're  talking  about," 
said  Sicard,  brutally ;  "  shut  up  and  mind  your 
business  !  " 

"I  protest!"  cried  Faustine ; — "it  is  murder! 
Why  should  you  harm  that  old  man  !  Fortin,  you 
are  my  friend — 

Fortin  looked  at  her  calmly  for  a  moment  and 
then  laughed.  "  You  are  very  pretty,"  he  said, 
"  but  you  can't  teach  me !  What  do  you  care, 
anyhow?  " 

"  Have  you  no  shame  ?  "  cried  Faustine,  angrily. 
"  Have  you  no  courage  except  to  murder  priests  ? 
Is  this  then  the  Commune  ?  Is  this  the  cause  for 
which  we  fight  ?  "  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes  and 
she  brushed  them  away. 

"  Get  down  from  that  barricade,"  said  Fortin, 
"  they  are  firing  at  you."  She  paid  no  attention  to 
the  warning,  but  began  to  plead  earnestly  for  the 
life  of  the  Archbishop. 

"  He  is  so  old,"  she  said,  "  so  helpless  and  gentle. 
Has  he  ever  harmed  anyone  ?  I  trusted  you,  Fortin." 

"Let  him  die  anyway,"  growled  Sicard;  "we 
want  six,  and  he 's  no  better  than  any  of  the 
others." 

"  He  must  die,"  said  Fortin,  coldly,  "  but  I  'm  not 
particular  who  the  other  five  are." 

"  I  am,"  shouted  a  soldier  standing  behind  him. 
"  My  name  is  Martin,  and  I  demand  the  death  of 

the  American,  Landes." 

28 


434  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Martin  !  Martin  !  "  cried  Faustina,  trying  to 
make  a  diversion — "  and  who  cares  if  your  name  is 
Martin?" 

"  That 's  all  very  well,"  said  the  soldier,  doggedly, 
"  but  I  demand  the  death  of  the  American,  Landes." 

"  Well,  it 's  as  easy  to  shoot  a  Yankee  as  a  French 
man — we  '11  finish  him  along  with  the  priest,"  said 
Genton  ;  "  come  along,  Fortin." 

"  Come  down  from  the  barricade,"  cried  Fortin,  as 
a  bullet  struck  the  stone  at  Faustine's  feet. 

"  Not  until  you  promise  me  to  spare  the  Arch 
bishop  and — the  American." 

"  Come  down,  you  fool." 

Faustine  looked  him  steadily  in  the  eyes. 
"  Emile,"  she  said,  "  do  you  hear  ?  I  forbid  you  to 
shoot  the  American."  A  volley  from  the  Ver 
sailles  troops  drowned  her  voice,  but  she  went  on  as 
soon  as  she  could  be  heard  :  "  I  demand  the  protec 
tion  of  the  Commune  for  the  American,  Landes." 
A  second  volley  cut  her  short,  and  a  whistling 
shower  of  bullets  spattered  the  barricade.  Fortin 
caught  Faustine  by  the  wrist  and  tried  to  pull  her 
down. 

"  You  're  in  the  way  !  They  are  coming  !  We 
must  fire  !  " 

"  Let  me  go  !  "  she  panted,  struggling  and  clinging 
to  the  wall. 

"  Get  down,  you  little  idiot ;  can't  you  see  you  're 
obstructing  our  cannon  ?  " 

"  Fire  your  cannon  !  "  she  screamed,  wringing  her 
self  free. 

"  Will  you  get  down  ?  :' 


THE    VIVANDIERE   OF   THE   66 TH.  435 

"No!" 

"  Fire,  then  !  "  yelled  Martin,  jerking  the  lanyard. 

"  My  God ! "  shouted  Fortin,  "  the  girl  was  in 
front !  "  He  sprang  on  Martin,  and  they  rolled  over 
and  over,  till  Fortin  could  draw  his  sabre.  A  mo 
ment  later  he  picked  himself  up,  streaming  with 
blood. 

"  Now  for  the  Archbishop,"  he  cried  in  a  voice 
like  nothing  human.  Followed  by  Sicard,  Genton, 
and  six  more  grimy  insurgents,  he  left  the  barricade. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

"  THE  PRISON  OF  THE  CONDEMNED." 

THE  light  was  growing  dim  in  the  long  corridor 
of  the  "  Prison  of  the  Condemned,"  and 
Francois,  the  Governor,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and 
bent  lower  over  the  file  of  papers  on  the  table 
before  him. 

"  I  can't  see, — here,  Remain,  get  me  a  lamp,"  he 
said,  yawning  and  scratching  his  head.  The  Briga 
dier  Romain  departed,  and  returned  in  a  few  mo 
ments  with  a  lighted  lamp.  The  Governor  blinked 
and  yawned  again. 

"  It  makes  me  sick,"  he  said,  "  to  have  that  whin 
ing  priest  on  my  hands.  Why  does  n't  Rigault 
shoot  him.  He  's  always  miauling  and  praying  and 
pretending  he  's  sick." 

"  He  says  he  can't  sleep  on  the  board  in  his  cell," 
observed  the  Brigadier  Romain. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  He  says  he  's  old  and  sick." 

"And  an  Archbishop;  that's  the  trouble,  he 
thinks  he  's  an  Archbishop  still !  I  '11  correct  that 
impression.  I  wish  I  'd  left  him  in  No.  i.  Cell  23 
is  the  best  cell  in  La  Grande  Roquette,  and  he  'd 
better  be  satisfied.  And  you  tell  him  to  stop  writing 
on  the  wall.  I  won't  have  it.  What  did  he  write 
just  now?" 


"  THE  PRISON  OF  THE  CONDEMNED."        437 


"  Oh,  some  Jesuit  foolishness — '  the  cross  is  the 
strength  of  life  and  the  salvation  of  the  soul/  " 

"  In  French  ?  " 

"No,  Latin." 

"  Then,"  growled  Fran$ois,  "  it 's  some  cipher  sig 
nal  and  I  won't  have  it,— you  understand  ?  These 
Jesuits  are  devils  at  treachery.  Did  you  change  all 
the  prisoners  on  this  tier?" 

"All,"  said  Romain,  with  his  misleading  pleasant 
smile.  Fran9ois  turned  and  looked  along  the  dark 
passage.  The  central  corridor  was  lined  on  either 
side  by  massive  doors,  each  pierced  by  a  small 
"judas"  with  iron  crossbars.  In  the  centre  of  this 
corridor  were  half  a  dozen  wash-stands,  through  the 
basins  of  which  water  ran  continually. 

There  was  no  furniture  in  cell  or  corridor  except 
the  iron  benches  let  into  the  solid  masonry,  and  the 
single  chair  and  table,  which  was  only  for  the  Gov 
ernor's  use.  A  grating  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
corridor  looked  out  on  the  grassy  prison  court,  and 
just  beyond  one  could  see  the  chapel,  and  a  sec 
tion  of  the  wall  surrounding  the  circular  road  or 
"  ronde." 

Francois  peered  into  the  prison  twilight,  then 
shuffled  to  his  feet  and  passed  along  the  rows  of 
cell  doors,  touching  each  lightly  with  the  roll  of 
paper  in  his  hand,  followed  by  Romain. 

"  Who  's  there, — what  's  the  number?  " 

"  Twenty-two, — it  's  the  Jesuit,  Gu£rin." 

"  What  !  And  the  Archbishop  in  the  next  cell ! 
You  're  asleep.  Put  that  American,  Landes,  in  there 
after  the  roll-call,  and  shove  the  Jesuit  into  the 


438  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


American's  cell.  Whom  did  you  put  in  twenty- 
four?" 

"  That  baby-faced  friend  of  the  American  who 
proved  to  be  a  woman." 

"  Let  the  slut  stay  there  then,  but  don't  lock  any 
more  Jesuits  next  to  the  Archbishop,  or  by  God — 

"  Now,  now,"  urged  Remain,  "  you  must  remem 
ber  that  he  is  n't  an  Archbishop  !  " 

"  Slip  of  the  tongue." 

"  And  you  forget  that  God  is  out  of  date ;  you  Ve 
sworn  by  Him  twice." 

"  Did  I,"  sneered  Francois  ;  "  well  we  all  make 
fools  of  ourselves  at  times,  and  nursery  rhymes  are 
not  easily  forgotten.  You  don't  suspect  me,  do 
you?  " 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Remain. 

"You  'd  better  not !  "  blustered  Francois. 

"  Of  course  not,"  repeated  Remain,  in  his  soft, 
pleasant  voice. 

The  Governor  turned  and  looked  at  him.  "  You  're 
the  damnedest,  scoundrelly  hypocrite  unhung!"  he 
said ;  "  you  can  spy  about  and  fool  the  prisoners 
with  your  sympathetic  ways,  but  you  'd  better  not 
try  any  treachery  on  me  !  " 

"  You  wrong  me,"  said  Romain  with  a  sincere 
manner  that  would  have  misled  anybody  but  the 
Governor. 

"  Oh,  I  know  I  do,"  said  Francois  ;  "  what  did  you 
worm  out  of  the  Jesuit,  Guerin,  this  morning?  " 

"  Not  very  much.  He  says  the  Archbishop  relies 
on  Thiers,  implicitly." 

"  Then  he  's  the  biggest  fool  in  Paris.  What  time 
is  it  ?  " 


THE  PRISON  OF  THE  CONDEMNED"         439 


"  Six." 

"  It  's  too  late  to  turn  the  prisoners  out.  I  sup 
pose  they  can  stand  it  ;  if  they  can't,  I  can,  and  it  's 
all  the  same." 

"  Will  you  call  the  roll  ?  "  asked  Romain. 

"  Yes,  give  me  that  lamp  and  unlock  the  doors." 

Romain  unhooked  a  heavy  bunch  of  keys  from 
his  belt  and  rapidly  unlocked  the  cell  doors,  passing 
from  one  to  the  other  with  a  light  swiftness  which 
argued  practice  and  devotion  to  his  profession. 

"  Cell  number  one  !  Caubert  !  "  cried  the  Gov 
ernor,  holding  the  long  sheet  of  paper  close  to 
the  lamp  in  his  hand.  The  cell  door  at  the  end  of 
the  corridor  opened  from  within  and  a  pleasant- 
faced  priest  walked  out  and  stood  facing  the  Gov 
ernor.  Francois  raised  the  lamp  in  his  hand  and 
eyed  the  priest.  "  Caubert  !  "  he  repeated. 

"  I  am  here,"  said  the  priest. 

"  Then  go  back  again,"  said  the  Governor,  bru 
tally.  Pere  Caubert  turned  back  to  his  cell  with  a 
touch  of  irony  in  his  quiet  smile,  and  the  Governor 
locked  him  in. 

"  Number  two!     Ducoudray  !  "  cried  Francois. 

"  I  am  here,"  said  Father  Ducoudray.  He  was 
locked  in  without  comment. 

"  Number  three  !     Olivaint !  " 

"  Here." 

"  Number  four  !     Allard  !  " 

"  Here !  " 

"  Yes,  here  now,  but  probably  under  ground  be 
fore  long,"  sneered  the  Governor. 

"  If  God  wills,"  said  Father  Allard. 

"  If    Rno-.'.l    Rigault    wills,"    mimicked    Francois, 


44°  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


slamming  the  cell  door.  Presently  he  came  to  cell 
twenty-two. 

"  Twenty-two  !     Guerin  !  " 

"  Here  !  " 

"  Where  's  that  American,"  asked  Francois,  turn 
ing  to  Romain.  "  Oh,  you  Ve  got  him  with  you,  eh  ? 
Then  run  this  Jesuit  into  his  cell  and  put  him  next 
to  the  Arch — to  the  old  fox,  Darboy, — so.  Landes, 
I  hope  you  won't  mind  the  smell  of  a  Jesuit.  We  '11 
air  your  cell  in  the  morning ;  "  and  he  closed  the 
door  on  Philip's  heels. 

"  Twenty-three  !     Darboy  !  " 

"  You  '11  have  to  open  the  door  and  go  in.  He  's 
too  sick  to  get  up,"  observed  Romain. 

"  He  's  got  to  get  up  ! "  cried  the  Governor,  and 
at  the  same  moment  the  Archbishop  appeared  on 
the  threshold  of  his  cell.  His  hair  was  white  as 
snow,  and  his  long  white  beard  which  had  grown 
in  prison  fell  untrimmed  on  his  breast. 

"  I  am  here,"  said  the  Archbishop  in  a  voice  weak 
with  pain. 

"  Glad  to  see  you.  Exercise  will  do  you  good," 
said  Francois  ;  "  do  you  sleep  well?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Evil  conscience  !  "  commented  the  Governor, 
and  slammed  the  door  in  his  face.  "  Twenty-four  ! 
Citoyenne  !  " 

"  I  am  here,"  said  Jeanne  de  Brassac,  stepping 
from  her  cell. 

"  Ah,  you  little  devil  of  a  spy,  I  'd  like  to  ring 
your  neck,"  observed  Frangois,  leering  at  her. 

Jeanne,  still  clothed  in  the  faded  uniform  of  the 


THE  PRISON  OF  THE  CONDEMNED"        44! 


Subsistence  Department,  leaned  wearily  against  the 
cell  door.  It  was  not  the  first  threat  she  had  re 
ceived  from  the  Governor  of  La  Grande  Roquette. 

"  Faugh !  Get  in  there,  you  hussy  !  "  growled 
Francois,  and  pushed  the  door  back.  Then  he 
moved  on  with  his  roll  of  paper  and  his  little  lamp, 
and  presently  the  great  gate  in  the  court  clanged  and 
the  corridor  was  silent,  save  for  the  measured  tread 
of  the  first  night  watch  and  the  tinkling  of  the  water 
in  the  iron  wash-basins. 

Philip,  sitting  in  his  cell,  heard  the  gate  slam,  and 
knew  that  the  Governor  had  gone.  He  sat  thinking 
for  a  moment,  then  rose  and  walked  to  the  grating 
which  formed  a  section  of  the  partition  which  sepa 
rated  his  cell  from  the  cell  of  the  Archbishop. 
Through  this  grating  he  could  see  across  a  portion 
of  the  Archbishop's  cell,  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
grating  in  the  partition  of  the  cell  beyond,  but  the 
light  was  growing  so  dim  that  the  grating  was  merely 
an  indistinct  blot  in  the  twilight.  He  looked  at  the 
Archbishop,  lying  silently  on  the  wretched  board 
which  projected  from  the  wall. 

"  Monseigneur,"  he  said,  softly. 

"  My  son,"  replied  the  old  man,  painfully  rising  on 
his  elbow  and  looking  up. 

"  It  is  I — Philip  Landes,  the  American,  Mon- 
seigneur." 

The  Archbishop  smiled.  In  the  hours  of  recrea 
tion  in  the  court-yard  he  had  become  very  fond  of 
Philip. 

"  So  you  are  there  now,"  he  said  ;  "what  has  be 
come  of  the  Abbe  Gue"rin  ?  " 


442  THE    RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  They  put  him  into  my  old  cell,  Monseigneur. 
Can  I  be  of  any  use  to  you  ?  I  have  not  yet  eaten 
my  supper." 

"  Eat  it,  my  son  ; — I  thank  you,  but  they  give  me 
much  more  than  I  am  able  to  eat." 

"  Are  you  suffering  very  much  to-night,  Mon 
seigneur?  " 

"  Not  more  than  I  can  bear,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  Do  you  know  that  Mademoiselle  Jeanne  is  in  the 
cell  beside  mine  ?  " 

"  No.  Will  it  disturb  you,  Monseigneur,  if  I  speak 
with  her  ?  " 

"I  will  call  her  myself,"  said  the  Archbishop; 
"  Jeanne  !  Jeanne  !  "  Then  Philip  heard  a  timid 
voice  from  the  darkness ;  "  Je  suis  la,  Monseigneur." 

"  Jeanne,"  called  Philip,  softly. 

"  Philip  !     Oh,  are  you  there,  my  darling?" 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Philip,  "  or  they  will  hear  us.  Are 
you  well  ?  Have  you  enough  to  eat  ?  I  have  my 
supper  here." 

"  Eat  it,  you  silly  boy  ;  I  have  all  I  wish  for." 

"  And  are  you  well  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  she  replied,  bravely  ; — "  are  you?" 

"  Oh,  yes.     You  have  not  lost  hope  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  not  while  you  are  there." 

"And  God  lives,"  said  the  Archbishop. 

"  And  God  lives,"  they  repeated  reverently. 

After  a  pause,  Philip  spoke  again  : 

"  Did  you  hear  the  firing  this  morning,  Jeanne?  " 

"  Yes.     It  seemed  to  be  very  near." 

"  A  shell  fell  into  the  street  outside  about  four 
o'clock.  I  saw  it  from  my  window  in  the  opposite  tier." 


THE  PRISON  OF  THE  CONDEMNED."         443 


"  Do — do  you  think  the  Versaillists  could  have 
entered  ?"  asked  Jeanne,  timidly. 

"  I  dare  hope  so.  That  firing  came  from  the  city. 
What  else  could  it  have  been, — unless  they  are  mas 
sacring  the  people." 

"  It  may  have  been  a  peloton  of  execution,"  said 
the  Archbishop,  feebly. 

"  I  do  not  think  so,  Monseigneur ;  it  was  not  sin 
gle  volley  firing, — it  sounded  like  the  firing  from  a 
barricade." 

The  old  man  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  he 
sighed  and  turned  over  on  his  board. 

"  I  think  I  might  sleep  a  little,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Then  good-night,  Monseigneur,"  they  said.  He 
gave  them  his  blessing,  and  turned  his  face  to  the 
stone  wall. 

"  Good-night,  my  darling,"  whispered  Philip. 

"  Good-night,  my  own  Philip,"  sighed  Jeanne. 
Then  she  stood  silent,  seized  with  a  sudden  terror. 

"  Hark!"  cried  the  Archbishop,  suddenly  sitting 
up  and  turning  his  head  toward  the  cell  door.  From 
the  street  outside  came  the  sound  they  had  learned 
to  know  so  well — the  voice  of  an  angry  crowd  grow 
ing  louder  and  louder,  until  somewhere  a  great  door 
was  flung  open,  and  the  dash  of  many  feet  sounded 
on  stone  floors.  Then  came  a  single  cry,  ominous, 
sinister,  penetrating  even  the  solid  stone  walls  of  the 
Prison  of  the  Condemned,  "  Death  !  " 

The  Archbishop  tottered  to  his  feet  and  stood  facing 
his  cell  door.  There  came  a  shout,  the  clash  of  bayo 
nets,  and  in  a  second  the  long  corridor  was  filled  with 
the  blazing  light  of  torches  and  the  rush  of  a  mob. 


THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

"What's  this?"  shouted  the  Governor  of  the 
Prison,  hastening  into  the  corridor,  half-dressed  ; 
"  Remain,  I  call  you  to  witness — 

"  Oh,  shut  up !  "  interrupted  Fortin,  contemptu 
ously,  "  we  've  got  an  order.  Where  's  the  old  fox, 
Darboy  ?  " 

"  Order  ?     From  whom  ?  " 

"  Ferre  !  " 

"  Oh  !  "  said  the  Governor,  "  that 's  another  mat 
ter."  He  looked  at  the  motley  throng,  Garibaldians, 
Hussars  of  Death,  Avengers  of  the  Republic,  Na 
tional  Guards,  and  deserters. 

"  Who  commands  ?  "  he  asked,  briefly. 

"I,  Jean  Verig,  captain  of  the  iSoth  !  "  roared  a 
villainous-browed  fellow. 

"  No,  you  don't,  you  fool !  "  said  Fortin,  "  I  do, 
and  here  is  my  order,"  shoving  it  under  the  Gov 
ernor's  nose. 

"  I  can't  see  it, — read  it,"  said  Francois,  sulkily. 

Then  Fortin  read  in  a  loud  voice  : 

"  The  Citizen  Governor  of  the  Prison  of  the  Con 
demned  is  hereby  ordered  to  execute  six  hostages 
— notably  the  Sieur  Darboy,  calling  himself  Arch 
bishop  of  Paris. 

(Signed)  "  FERRE, 

"  RAOUL  RIGAULT." 

"That  is  all  right,"  said  Francois,  rubbing  his 
hands.  "  We  '11  take  the  first  six  on  your  list.  Read 
the  names  !  " 

"  Silence  !  "  commanded  Fortin,  and  read  the  first 
six  names  in  a  heavy  voice  : 


•THE   PRISON  OF  THE    CONDEMNED"        44$ 


"  Darboy. 

"  Deguerry. 

"  Bonjean. 

"  Clerc. 

"  Allard. 

"  Ducoudray." 

Brigadier  Remain  had  opened  a  cell  door  and  the 
Archbishop  dragged  his  fever-racked  frame  across 
the  threshold. 

"  Are  you  the  Citizen  Darboy  ?  "  demanded  Verig. 

"  Yes,  my  son." 

"  Stand  there,  then  !  " 

"Am  I  to  die?  " 

"  Are  you  to  die  ?  "  mimicked  Sicard  ;  "  my  faith  ! 
I  think  you  are." 

The  five  other  victims  were  hastily  led  out  of  their 
cells  and  placed  in  single  file.  Remain,  swinging  a 
lantern,  led  the  procession,  followed  by  the  motley 
throng  of  Federals,  Genton,  Fortin,  and  Sicard 
bringing  up  the  rear  with  Francois. 

Slowly  they  descended  the  stone  steps,  twenty-five 
in  number,  entered  a  gallery  which  bordered  the 
facade  opposite  the  court-yard,  passed  the  doorway, 
descended  six  more  steps,  and  entered  the  path  which 
encircles  the  prison  walls, — the  dreary  "  chemin  de 
ronde."  Again  they  turned  to  the  right,  through 
the  garden  of  the  hospital,  through  the  "  Salle  des 
Vieillards,"  and  entered  the  second  "  chemin  de 
ronde."  Here  the  Archbishop  was  taken  suddenly 
faint,  for  the  road  was  long  and  he  was  very  ill.  The 
President  Bonjean  was  sobbing,  and  Sicard  laughed 
at  him. 


446  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Coward,"  he  said. 

"  It  is  not  for  myself,  I  have  a  family,"  said  Bon- 
jean. 

"  You  cannot  intend  to  shoot  us,"  said  the  Arch 
bishop,  piteously  ;  "  it  is  impossible — 

"  Enough  !  "  cried  Fortin,  and  the  procession 
moved  on  to  the  grille,  passed  it,  and  stood  below 
the  exterior  wall  of  the  prison. 

"  Monseigneur  !  "  cried  Father  Clerc,  falling  on  his 
knees.  All  the  priests  knelt.  The  old  man  silently 
blessed  them,  then  tottered  to  his  place  against  the 
wall. 

"  Hurry  !  "  urged  Francois,  "  or  you  can't  see  to 
aim." 

"  Lend  me  your  sabre,"  said  Sicard  to  Fortin : 
"  I  '11  order  the  firing." 

Genton  placed  the  armed  mob  in  three  ranks 
and  stepped  back  beside  Francois.  Father  Allard 
opened  his  soutane  and  bared  his  breast,  and 
at  the  same  instant  Sicard  raised  his  sabre.  The 
rifles  cracked  sharply.  "  Fire ! "  shouted  Sicard 
again,  and  again  the  rifles  blazed.  And,  the 
Archbishop  still  showing  signs  of  life,  Sicard  mo 
tioned  a  man  to  finish  him  with  the  bayonet  and 
strolled  over  to  Genton. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  that  settles  the  Archbishop  !  " 

"  My  compliments,"  said  Genton ;  "  have  you  got 
a  cigarette  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  LAST  BARRICADE. 

THE  morning  after  the  Archbishop's  murder, 
two  new  prisoners  were  brought  into  the 
"  Prison  of  the  Condemned."  Francois  in 
spected  them,  while  the  Brigadier  Romain  read  their 
orders  of  arrest  in  a  voice  which  seemed  to  vibrate 
with  -pity  : 

"  Archibald  Wilton,  arrested  by  order  of  Raoul 
Rigault,  charged  with  treason.  To  be  executed 
without  court-martial  on  receipt  of  signed  order 
from  the  Prefet  of  Police." 

"Saves  me  trouble,"  continued  Frangois ;  "hey! 
are  you  wounded  ?  " 

"  Hands  shot  off,"  said  Wilton,  drily. 

"  Let  's  see." 

Wilton  raised  a  mutilated  arm. 

"You  '11  die  anyway,"  observed  Francois;  "you 
might  as  well  be  shot." 

"  If  you  want  to  shoot  me  you  'd  better  send  me 
a  surgeon  first,"  said  Wilton,  in  a  faint  voice. 

"  I  believe  I  will,"  mused  the  Governor,  biting  the 
end  of  his  pencil ;  "  if  you  die  now  I  '11  have  trouble 
with  Rigault.  What  's  this  woman  here  for  ?  " 

Romain  read  from  his  order  slip  : 

"  Ynes  Falaise,  accused  of  speaking  ill  of  the  Com- 


44^  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


mune,  convicted  of  aiding  the  Versailles  wounded, 
notably  the  traitor  Wilton.  To  be  shot  upon  receipt 
of  order  signed  by  Raoul  Rigault." 

The  Governor  leered  at  Ynes,  who  stood  beside 
Wilton.  She  was  dressed  in  black,  and  wore  a  red 
cross  on  her  arm.  "  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Ynes  Falaise,  formerly  actress  in  the  Folies  St. 
Antoine."  Her  voice  was  almost  inaudible. 

"  You  are  not  a  religieuse  now,  are  you  ?  "  asked 
Francois. 

"No." 

"  Then  why  do  you  wear  the  Geneva  Cross  ? 
Speak  louder!  " 

"  I  devote  myself  to  the  wounded !  " 

"  Really  ?  Very  commendable,  indeed.  Dressed 
in  black  too?"  sneered  the  Governor;  "oh,  how 
pious  !  What  are  you  in  mourning  for  ?  " 

"  For  my  country's  honor." 

"  Oh — I  thought  it  might  have  been  for  your  own. 
Is  this  traitor  your  lover?  " 

"  I  love  him,"  she  replied,  and  laid  her  hand  lightly 
on  Wilton's  shoulder. 

"  Then  you  can  take  care  of  him,"  roared  the 
Governor,  "  I  won't  work  my  surgeon  to  death 
on  every  foreigner  who  comes  here  !  Take  good 
care  that  he  lives  long  enough  to  be  shot,  you  hussy, 
or  I  '11  have  you  put  out  of  the  way  with  a  clubbed 
rifle !  Remain,  throw  that  loving  pair  into  the  dead 
Jesuit's  cell,  and  ring  the  signal  for  recreation.  The 
prisoners  will  have  to  take  it  in  here,  for  it 's  raining." 

"  Then  these  prisoners  get  no  recreation  to-day?  " 

"  No,  you  fool !     Ring  the  signal !  " 


THE  LAST  BARRICADE.  449 


The  Brigadier  Remain  led  Ynes  and  Wilton  into 
the  cell  of  the  dead  Archbishop,  locked  the  door,  and 
moved  swiftly  toward  the  end  of  the  corridor  where 
a  rope  dangled  from  the  great  gong  over  the  door 
way.  Landes,  lying  on  the  board  in  his  cell,  heard 
the  clang  of  the  gong,  and  sprang  to  his  feet  eagerly, 
for  that  signal  meant  an  hour's  liberty  with  Jeanne. 

"Jeanne!"  he  called  through  the  grating,  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  bars  across  the  intervening  cell. 
She  came  to  her  grating,  and  at  the  same  moment 
his  eyes  met  the  eyes  of  Wilton. 

"  Hello  !  "  said  Wilton,  weakly, "  I  heard  that  you 
were  here."  Then  Philip's  astonished  gaze  fell  upon 
Ynes.  She  looked  at  him  piteously. 

"  Monsieur  Wilton  is  badly  hurt,"  she  said  ;  "  I 
am  to  nurse  him — 

"  So  we  can  both  be  shot,"  gasped  Wilton.  "Are 
you  ill,  Philip?  " 

Before  Philip  could  reply,  the  door  of  his  cell  was 
flung  open,  and  the  Brigadier  Romain,  smiling  ami 
ably,  invited  him  to  come  out  and  get  a  little  air. 

In  the  long,  dim  corridor,  hundreds  of  prisoners 
were  gathered,  for  the  hour  of  recreation  was  the 
same  for  all  the  tiers  in  La  Grande  Roquette,  and 
now  the  prisoners  from  the  upper  floors  were  crowd 
ing  down  the  small  circular  stairway  into  the  im 
mense  corridor  below.  Everywhere  groups  were 
congregating,  but  Philip  noticed  that  gestures  and 
voices  were  more  subdued  than  usual,  especially 
among  the  priests. 

"  They  all  know  about  the  Archbishop,"  he 
thought,  and  looked  around  for  Jeanne.  She  was 


450  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


standing  alone  by  one  of  the  wash-basins,  and  he 
made  his  way  toward  her  through  the  throng  of 
priests,  gendarmes,  Versaillist  soldiers,  imprisoned 
policemen,  and  Gardes  de  Paris. 

"  Who  are  the  people  in  the  cell  between  yours 
and  mine  ?  "  she  asked,  laying  both  her  hands  in  his. 
He  began  to  tell  her,  but  stopped  as  the  Governor 
came  up  and  eyed  them  insolently. 

"  Pretty  birds  !  "  he  said  ;  "  now  I  have  two  pair  of 
turtle-doves  caged  here,"  and  he  made  an  insulting 
gesture  toward  Jeanne. 

"  I  have  already  told  you  what  I  should  do  if  you 
lay  your  hand  on  that  lady,"  said  Philip,  between 
his  teeth. 

The  Governor  looked  at  him  for  an  instant.  "  That 
is  the  third  time  you  have  threatened  me,"  he  said. 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  sufficient,"  returned  Philip, 
doggedly. 

The  Brigadier  Romain  at  that  moment  entered  the 
corridor,  stole  up  behind  the  Governor,  and  touched 
him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  said  the  Governor,  his 
eyes  still  fixed  on  Philip. 

"  Rigault  is  going  to  shoot  some  more  priests  and 
gendarmes,"  he  whispered  ;  "  here  is  the  list.  Shall 
I  notify  the  gentlemen  ?  " 

The  Governor  nodded,  never  removing  his  eyes 
from  Philip's,  and  Romain  glided  away  among  the 
prisoners,  tapping  the  condemned  softly  on  the 
shoulder  with  a  cheerful :  "  We  need  seventy-five 
this  time;  come,  Monsieur!  Pray  do  not  look  so 
frightened,  gentlemen." 


THE  LAST  B A RRICA DE.  4 5  I 


There  was  the  silence  of  death  among  the  prison 
ers,  as  a  file  of  Federal  soldiers  entered  the  corridor 
and  closed  in  around  the  condemned. 

"  And  you,"  said  the  Governor,  stretching  his 
arm  out  toward  Jeanne  and  Philip,  "  I  will  get  per 
mission  to  have  you  shot  with  the  next  batch !  " 
Then  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  followed  the  long 
line  of  the  condemned  moving  in  single  file  toward 
the  prison  court. 

An  hour  later,  Philip  and  Jeanne  crept  back  to 
their  cells,  and  the  Brigadier  Remain  facetiously 
bade  them  good-night  and  good-bye,  "  for,"  he  said, 
"  to-morrow  the  Governor  will  go  to  see  Rigault 
about  you." 

Light  faded  in  the  long  corridor,  the  guards  be 
gan  their  monotonous  tramp,  tramp,  tramp.  Philip 
pushed  his  miserable  supper  aside,  and  flung  himself 
face  downwards  on  the  stones. 

Wilton's  voice  aroused  him,  and  he  stumbled  to  his 
feet  and  went  to  the  iron  grating.  "  Philip,"  he  gasped, 
"  send  a  guard  for  a  priest.  Tell  him  I  am  dying." 

Landes  obeyed,  and,  pressing  his  face  to  the 
"  judas,"  called  out. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  replied  the  Brigadier  Ro- 
main,  who  was  passing  with  a  lantern  and  a  bunch 
of  keys. 

"  The  man  in  the  next  cell  is  dying,  and  asks  for  a 
priest,"  said  Philip  ;  "  hurry  !  " 

"  Fichtre  !  "  murmured  Romain  ;  "the  Governor 
will  catch  it  from  Rigault." 

"Hurry!  You  cannot  deny  him  a  priest!"  re 
peated  Philip. 


452  THE   RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  No — it  is  permitted,"  answered  Romain  ;  "  a 
man  has  the  right  to  go  to  hell  in  his  own  way,"  and 
he  unlocked  a  cell  door  a  little  way  down  the  corn- 
dor,  and  hustled  the  priest  who  occupied  it  into  the 
cell  where  Wilton  lay,  his  head  on  Ynes'  knees. 
"  Give  him  a  good  send-off,"  said  Remain,  laughing 
loudly.  "  A  priest's  recommendation  goes  a  long 
way  with  the  devil."  Philip  beckoned  Ynes,  and 
she  came  and  leaned  sobbing  on  the  grating,  while 
the  murmur  of  confession  rose  from  the  end  of  the 
cell: 

"  Mon  pere,  je  m'accuse — 

"Oh,  Philip,— it  is  hard,"  whispered  Ynes;  "I 
love  him  so  truly, — I  would  be  a  good  woman  if  he 
could  live.  I  have  been  different  ever  since  I  loved 
him." 

"You  have  been  working  in  the  hospital?" 

"Yes,  and  the  field." 

The  murmur  of  confession  went  on. 

"  Are  you  married  ?  "  asked  Philip. 

"  No.     Archie  wishes  we  were — now." 

"Yes— -it  is  better,"  said  Philip. 

"  I — I  never  thought  it  mattered  when  one  loved," 
sobbed  Ynes. 

"It  does  matter,  Ynes,"  said  Philip;  "  don't  cry 
so, — there  is  another  life  after  this.  Don't  you  be 
lieve  it?" 

"  Yes,  I  do  now.  I  understand  that  there  must  be 
another  life." 

With  Philip  and  Jeanne  behind  their  bars  as  wit 
nesses  Ynes  Falaise  and  Archie  Wilton  were  joined 
in  wedlock.  Then  the  priest  knelt  beside  Ynes  on 


THE  LAST  B A RRICA DE.  453 


the  stone  floor,  reciting  the  prayers  for  the  dying, 
and  Ynes,  holding  the  wounded  man's  head  against 
her  breast,  gave  way  to  bitter  weeping. 

"  Less  noise  there  !  "  shouted  the  guard,  hammer 
ing  on  the  door  with  the  butt  of  his  rifle.  At  the 
sound,  Wilton  sat  up. 

"  What  was  that  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Nothing,  Archie,"  sobbed  Ynes. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence,  broken  only  by 
the  low  murmur  of  the  priest.  Then  Wilton  lay 
back,  calling  feebly  on  Landes.  "  Good-bye, 
Philip." 

"  Good-bye,  Archie,  dear  fellow,"  answered  Philip. 
Wilton  sighed,  turned  his  face  to  Ynes,  and  died 
quietly  in  her  arms.  Romain  came  to  the  door, 
opened  it,  and  turned  away,  leaving  Ynes  crouched 
beside  her  dead  husband. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Philip  was 
stretched  on  his  board,  staring  at  the  ceiling,  when 
something  came  crashing  into  the  street  outside,  and 
burst  with  a  loud  explosion  under  his  window.  At 
once  the  prison  was  in  an  uproar,  but  Romain  hur 
ried  from  cell  to  cell,  cursing  savagely,  and  threaten 
ing  to  shoot  any  prisoner  who  did  not  keep  silence. 

"Que  Dieu  me  damne  !  "  he  cried,  dropping  his 
mask  of  good  nature,  "  if  I  hear  another  word  I  '11 
let  the  mob  in  on  you  !  Keep  quiet  you  cursed 
priests, — and  you  too,  you  cowardly  Yankee !  " 

An  inspiration  flashed  upon  Landes ;  he  ham 
mered  on  his  door  and  shouted  :  "  the  Versaillists  are 
in  Paris  !  Death  to  the  Commune  !  "  A  tremen 
dous  shout  answered  him. 


454  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  You  lie  !  "  screamed  Remain  ;  "  if  you  open  your 
mouth  again  I  '11  shut  it  forever  ! " 

"Try  it!"  cried  Philip. 

"  Will  you  be  silent !  "  howled  Romain,  drawing 
his  revolver. 

"  No !     Down  with  the  Commune  !  " 

Romain  flew  to  the  cell  door,  shoved  his  revolver 
through  the  "judas,"  and  fired.  Landes  dropped. 

"Good!"  yelled  Romain,  unlocking  the  door; 
"  I  '11  make  sure  of  you  now !  " 

As  he  flung  the  door  open,  Philip  leaped  at  his 
throat,  twisted  his  wrist  until  it  cracked,  and  drag 
ging  the  revolver  from  his  limp  fist,  fired  it  in  his 
face.  Romain  plunged  face  downward  on  the  stones, 
his  keys  ringing,  the  lantern  rolling  into  the  cell.  It 
was  not  extinguished,  however,  and  Philip  picked  it 
up,  seized  the  keys  from  the  dead  man's  belt,  and 
hurried  into  the  corridor. 

A  dozen  guards,  rifle  in  hand,  stood  motionless  by 
the  staircase,  but  Philip  cried  out  to  them  to  aid 
him,  for  the  Versailles  troops  were  in  Paris,  and  they 
stood  no  chance  unless  they  surrendered. 

It  may  have  been  the  overpowering  impudence  of 
the  request  that  held  them  back,  but  it  was  also  true 
that  most  of  the  armed  guards  had  been  recruited 
among  the  former  police  and  gendarmes  of  the  Em 
pire,  and  they  had  no  stomach  for  their  work  or  for 
the  Commune.  Through  terror  of  Francois  and  of 
Romain,  and  also  to  save  their  skins  from  Raoul 
Rigault,  these  former  gendarmes  had  consented  to 
enter  the  prison  service  of  the  Commune.  Now 
that  Romain  was  dead,  and  the  Versailists  were  in 


THE  LAST  B A RRICA DE.  455 


Paris,  and  especially  now  that  somebody  had  taken 
the  initiative,  they  did  not  hesitate  very  long. 

"Will  you  speak  a  good  word  for  us,  Citizen?" 
asked  one. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  Here,  take  these  keys  and  let  out 
the  prisoners  on  the  other  floors  !  "  cried  Landes. 
"The  Commune  will  come  for  us  and  we  Ve  got  to 
intrench  ourselves  !  " 

"  Then  give  me  the  keys,"  said  the  man,  "  I  '11  do 
it  if  I  am  shot  for  it !  "  and  he  hastened  away  toward 
the  upper  corridors. 

Somehow  or  other  the  news  of  the  fate  of  the 
seventy-five  victims  taken  that  morning  had  reached 
the  prison.  The  inconceivable  horrors  of  the  mas 
sacre  in  the  rue  Plaxo,  where  the  mob  had  flung 
itself  on  the  helpless  prisoners  and  had  literally 
hacked  them  to  death  with  knives,  were  recounted  to 
the  smallest  details  by  the  friendly  guards,  and  in  a 
moment  the  long  corridor  resounded  with  the  ex 
cited  cries  of  the  prisoners. 

"  Shall  we  go  tamely  to  be  butchered  ?  "  shouted  a 
Turco  of  the  Line  ;  "  shall  we  go  to  the  rue  Haxo  ?  " 

"  Let  us  defend  ourselves  !  "  cried  the  gendarmes, 
lugging  bedding,  boards,  and  planks  stripped  from 
the  ceilings  to  make  a  barricade.  They  had  no 
weapons  except  the  dozen  or  so  rifles  of  the  guards, 
but  a  priest  tore  the  iron  bars  and  stanchions  from 
the  benches,  and  his  example  was  followed  by  the 
rest.  A  Line  soldier  named  Ziem  took  command  of 
the  barricade,  posting  a  dozen  gendarmes,  who  car 
ried  rifles,  in  the  centre,  and  asking  those  armed  with 
iron  bars  to  lie  close  behind. 


456  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


Philip,  his  arm  clasping  Jeanne's,  stood  guard  at 
the  long  stairway  which  rose  from  the  prison  court. 
Francois,  the  Governor,  had  escaped  in  the  confu 
sion,  and  the  prisoners  knew  it  would  not  be  very 
long  before  the  battalions  of  the  Commune  swarmed 
into  the  prison. 

Francois,  in  his  night-shirt,  had  fled  at  the  first 
sound  of  the  insurrection,  and  half  an  hour  later  he 
stood  shivering  before  Raoul  Rigault  in  the  Luxem 
bourg  Palace. 

"  You  're  a  traitor  !  "  yelled  Rigault,  beside  himself 
with  fury. 

"  No,  I  'm  not,"  chattered  Francois,  "  and  if  you  '11 
give  me  some  clothes  I  '11  head  a  battalion  to  quell 
the  riot.  It 's  only  that  they  Ve  heard  of  the  affair 
in  the  rue  Haxo  and  have  become  desperate." 

"  Then  you  can  get  on  your  clothes  and  go  back 
and  finish  the  lot  of  them,"  said  Rigault ;  "  how 
many  are  there  ?  Fifteen  hundred  ?  Good  !  Here 
is  an  order  to  execute  every  one  of  them  !  "  And 
he  seized  a  stamped  paper  and  wrote  the  order. 

"And  if  they  refuse " 

"  What  's  that  ?     Don't  I  give  you  a  battalion  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  suppose  they  resist." 

"Then  collect  every  criminal  in  the  city  prisons — . 
scour  Belleville  and  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine  until 
you  get  a  mob  that  can  smell  blood  through  the 
walls  of  La  Grande  Roquette.  I  tell  you  to  tear  the 
walls  down,  blow  the  prison  up,  anything,  to  get  at 
the  prisoners.  Do  you  think  I  Ve  finished  my  list 
yet  ?  What  a  fool  I  'd  look  letting  those  priests 
and  gendarmes  slip  through  my  fingers.  There  's 


THE  LA  S T  BARRICA DE.  457 


an  American  there,  too,  whom  I  intended  to  strangle. 
But  there  will  be  no  time — make  sure  of  him  first  of 
all.  You  'd  better  do  this  job  up  quickly  or  you  '11 
have  a  bayonet  in  your  back  before  you  know  it !  " 

Francois  took  the  order  and  followed  an  officer 
into  a  room  where  he  quickly  clothed  himself  in  the 
uniform  of  a  colonel.  Rigault  watched  him  sarcas 
tically. 

"  What  battalion  am  I  to  take  ?  "  asked  Francois. 

"Any  you  can  find,"  replied  Rigault,  "  get  out, 
you  fool  !  "  and  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked 
away  toward  the  river. 

It  took  Francois  all  day  to  collect  his  rabble,  but 
when  they  were  assembled  he  could  justly  boast  that 
he  commanded  the  vilest  mob  that  ever  howled  for 
blood. 

They  entered  the  court-yard  of  the  Prison  of  the 
Condemned  and  attemped  to  rush  the  stairway,  but 
the  twelve  rifles  and  Philip's  revolver  choked  the 
stairs  with  dead  and  dying  and  the  mob  fell  back 
disconcerted.  Then  they  tried  diplomacy  and  sent 
a  white  flag  up  the  stairway  with  solemn  promises 
of  safe  conduct.  The  prisoners  consulted.  A  dozen 
priests  and  citizens  who  believed  that  the  barricade 
could  not  hold  out,  and  if  it  did,  starvation  would 
drive  the  defenders  to  make  terms,  left  the  barricade 
bearing  a  white  flag,  and  entered  the  court-yard  of 
the  prison. 

"  You  promise  us  safe  conduct?"  they  repeated. 

"  It  is  a  sacred  promise,"  answered  Jean  Verig, 
opening  the  gate  into  the  street. 

One   by  one   the  prisoners  stepped  through    the 


THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 

narrow  wicket,  and  each,  as  he  disappeared,  was 
seized  and  silently  butchered  by  the  mob.  So  noise 
lessly  was  this  done  that  had  it  not  been  for  one  of 
the  mob  who  fired  at  the  last  priest  to  leave  the 
court-yard,  the  defenders  of  the  barricade  might  have 
believed  that  the  way  to  safety  was  open.  It  did 
not  comfort  Francois  very  much  to  smash  the  skull 
of  the  ruffian  who  had  fired  contrary  to  orders, 
for  now  the  prisoners  were  alert,  and  Francois 
knew  they  would  die  behind  their  barricade  rather 
than  trust  to  promises.  So  he  threw  off  the  mask 
and  incited  his  mob  to  the  attack.  Three  times  the 
howling  rabble  surged  into  the  prison  court-yard  and 
charged  up  the  stairs,  and  every  time  they  fled  in  a 
panic,  leaving  scores  of  dead  and  wounded  behind 
them,  while  the  defenders  of  the  barricade  cheered 
and  shouted  defiance.  Hand  to  hand  the  brave 
priests  met  the  onslaught,  and  their  bars  of  iron 
played  havoc  with  the  skulls  of  the  mob.  Enthu 
siasm  animated  the  disheartened  Line  soldiers  and 
the  gendarmes,  and  they  sprang  at  the  mob  with  no 
weapons  but  clubs  and  bits  of  pointed  stone.  Twice 
the  Federals  succeeded  in  setting  fire  to  the  barricade, 
but  Jeanne  and  Ynes  were  ready  with  basins  of 
water  and  the  fire  was  quickly  extinguished. 

Night  fell,  and  under  cover  of  the  darkness, 
Francois  himself  led  his  cutthroats  to  the  foot  of 
the  stairway  and  directed  the  placing  of  inflammable 
material.  A  cask  of  crude  petroleum  was  rolled 
under  the  arcade  and  a  dozen  loaded  shells  piled 
around  it.  Twice  the  desperate  prisoners  succeeded 
in  dampening  the  powder  train,  but  at  last  a  blazing 


THE  LAST  BA KRICA DE.  459 


torch  was  flung  into  the  petroleum  and  a  frightful 
explosion  shook  the  arcade.  Great  masses  of  stone 
tottered  and  dropped  into  the  court,  and  the  wooden 
ceiling  of  the  arcade  blazed  and  crackled,  but  the 
massive  prison  was  not  injured,  and  the  fire  in  the 
arcade  burnt  itself  out  against  the  stones. 

It  was  the  last  attempt  that  the  mob  made  that 
night.  The  garrison  of  the  barricade  posted  sen 
tinels  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  changing  them  every 
two  hours.  Philip  dragged  a  mattress  into  his  cell 
for  Jeanne,  insisting  that  she  should  sleep. 

"  I  will  try,"  she  said,  dropping  wearily  on  the 
couch,  "  but  I  cannot  sleep  if  you  are  going  back  to 
the  barricade." 

"No,  I  am  not  going  there,"  he  said,  "I  shall  be 
very  near  you." 

"  Then  you  are  going  to  sit  up  with — with " 

"Yes,  with  my  friend  Wilton;  I  can't  leave  his 
wife  alone  there.  Try  to  sleep,  Jeanne." 

"  I  will  try.  Good-night,  dear  Philip."  She 
raised  one  little  hand  and  he  bent  and  kissed  it. 

"  How  cold  your  fingers  are,"  he  said,  "  are  you 
ill?" 

"  No,  only  tired." 

He  looked  at  her  anxiously,  sighed,  and  turned 
away,  saying :  "  I  shall  be  in  the  next  cell ;  call  me  if 
you  are  feeling  ill." 

Ynes,  beside  the  body  of  her  husband,  looked  up 
as  he  entered,  but  he  silently  placed  himself  at  the 
foot  of  the  couch,  and  she  bent  her  head  again 
without  speaking. 

So  they  sat,  watching  beside  the  dead  until  in  the 


4^0  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


gray  of  the  morning  a  rifle  cracked,  and  the  barricade 
swarmed  in  an  instant. 

"  They  're  coming  again,"  he  said,  "  I  must  go 
back  to  the  others.  Would  you  care  to  have  me 
send  a  priest  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Then  try  to  eat  something.  See,  here  is  a  bit  of 
bread  and  a  cup  of  wine  which  I  saved  from  my 
dinner.  You  must  try  to  eat." 

"  I  cannot  eat,"  she  said. 

"You  must.  No  one  knows  how  long  we  may  be 
kept  here,  and  there  is  no  food  left  in  the  prison." 

He  placed  the  bread  and  wine  on  the  stones  beside 
her  and  turned  away  into  the  next  cell,  where  Jeanne 
still  lay. 

"  Have  you  slept?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes.  The  shot  woke  me.  I  lay  very  still,  for  I 
heard  your  voice  in  the  next  cell." 

Philip  sat  down  beside  her  and  took  her  hand. 
It  was  burning.  "  You  have  a  little  fever,"  he  said  ; 
"  you  must  lie  quite  still.  Here  is  your  breakfast." 
He  took  a  roll  from  his  pocket  and  laid  it  on  the 
bed. 

"  I  am  not  hungry,"  she  murmured,  "  but  I  am 
very  thirsty." 

He  brought  her  a  cup  of  red  wine  and  water,  and 
at  his  urging  she  swallowed  some  bits  of  bread 
soaked  in  it.  Then  he  took  off  his  jacket,  rolled  it  up, 
and  placed  it  under  her  head.  "  Do  not  leave  the 
cell  while  they  are  firing,"  he  said  ;  "  I  will  come 
back  every  hour  and  see  you."  He  walked  to  the 
door,  hesitated,  and  turned  around. 


THE  LAST  BARRICADE.  461 


She  looked  at  him  listlessly.  Her  eyes  were  very 
bright  and  feverish,  and  the  color  in  her  face  burned 
scarlet.  She  lay  there,  her  hands  clasped  to  her 
throat,  her  uniform  torn,  and  soiled  with  prison 
grime.  Both  her  spurs  had  been  snapped  off  short 
above  the  boot  heels,  the  riding  breeches  were  dusty 
and  faded,  and  her  clustering  hair  fell  over  her  eyes, 
now  wide  open  and  shining  like  stars. 

"  Jeanne,"  he  said,  carelessly,  "  if  anything  hap 
pens  so  that  you  are  left  alone,  do  whatever  Father 
Launay  tells  you.  Trust  him  in  everything." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  will  do 

Crack !  Bang !  rang  the  rifles  from  the  barri 
cade,  followed  by  a  cry  of  warning:  "Attention! 
Look  out  for  that  grenade  !  Down  on  your  faces  !  " 
Philip  sprang  to  the  door  of  the  cell. 

"  Go  back !  Look  out  for  the  grenade  !  "  they 
cried  to  him  from  the  barricade,  and  at  the  same 
moment  he  saw  a  round  black  ball  come  rolling 
toward  him  over  the  stone  floor.  He  stared  stupidly 
at  the  sputtering  fuse,  scarcely  understanding,  then, 
as  he  stepped  back,  there  came  a  blinding  flash  of 
light,  a  stunning  report,  and  a  cry  from  the  next 
cell.  They  heard  that  cry  at  the  barricade,  and  a 
soldier  came  hurrying  across  the  corridor  just  as 
Philip  hastened  into  the  cell. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  the  soldier,  "  a  woman !  " 

Philip  stood  looking  down  at  the  limp  figure,  flung 
half  across  the  body  of  Wilton. 

"  Struck  in  the  head — see  there,"  said  the  soldier; 
"the  grenade  was  full  of  bullets  and  scrap  iron." 

"  It  must  have  rolled  almost  into  her  cell, — I  was 


462  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


standing  in  the  next  cell, — I  never  thought  she  was 
in  danger,"  said  Philip.  Then  he  turned  away  and 
crossed  to  the  barricade,  where  two  of  its  defenders 
lay  wounded  from  flying  fragments.  And  as  he 
entered,  the  bullets  began  whistling  into  the  corridor 
from  the  arcade  and  outer  walls,  and  the  hoarse  cry 
of  the  mob :  "  Turn  the  cannon  on  them  !  Death  to 
the  prisoners  !  "  was  taken  up  by  a  new  contingent, 
which  had  just  arrived  with  two  cannon  and  a  mor 
tar  from  the  Mairie  du  Prince  Eugene. 

"  Cannon  !  "  cried  Philip,  aghast. 

"  That  settles  it,  we  are  done  for !  "  said  a  gen 
darme,  bitterly,  and  sat  down  with  his  face  in  his 
hands. 

Philip  looked  fearfully  around.  Most  of  the  sol 
diers  stood  with  folded  arms,  doggedly  awaiting 
their  fate,  and  the  priests  were  praying,  some  on 
their  knees,  quietly,  some  standing,  stern  and  rigid, 
with  eyes  fixed,  and  drawn  lips  scarcely  moving. 
Then  he  went  to  Jeanne,  and  found  her,  trembling 
and  shivering,  on  the  couch. 

"  My  darling,"  he  whispered,  "  I  am  afraid  that 
we  must  give  up.  Put  your  arms  around  my  neck, 
so — are  you  ready  to  die  with  me,  Jeanne?" 

"  Yes — with  you." 

He  drew  his  revolver,  loaded  it,  and  laid  it  at  his 
feet.  Then  he  kissed  Jeanne  on  the  mouth. 

"When  the  rush  comes — I  have  two  bullets  for 
us, — it  is  better." 

"  It  is  better,"  she  repeated  calmly. 

"  And  if — if  I  am  hit,"  he  said,  "  before  I  can  fire, 


THE  LAST  B A RRICA DE.  463 


. — take  the  revolver, — hold  it  so — close  to  your  tem 
ple  ; — it  is  better  that  way  than  to  die  in  the  rue 
Haxo  !  " 

"Yes,  Philip." 

A  dreadful  tumult  arose  outside, — shouts,  yells, 
shot  on  shot,  and  the  hiss  and  explosion  of  falling 
shells  mingled  with  the  crash  of  volley  firing  and 
the  patter  of  a  mitrailleuse.  From  the  prison  court 
came  voices  raised  in  frantic  appeal,  the  click  !  clash  ! 
click  !  of  bayonets,  and  then  horrid  screams.  There 
was  a  rush  and  trample  of  feet  on  the  stairs,  a  flash 
of  steel. 

"  Are  you  ready,  Jeanne  ?  "  said  Philip — "  kiss  me 
— good-bye — 

"Good-bye,"  she  murmured. 

He  cocked  his  revolver,  hesitated,  and  turned  one 
furious  glance  toward  the  stairs.  A  figure  was  as 
cending  from  the  court  below,  not  hastily  either,  but 
silently  and  alone,  and  Philip  saw  with  a  start  that 
he  wore  the  uniform  of  the  Line.  Before  he  could 
realize  what  had  happened,  a  wild  shout  broke  from 
the  barricade:  "The  Line!  the  Line!"  and  the 
prisoners  rushed  out  from  behind  their  defences  and 
flung  themselves  down  the  stairs  to  the  prison  court 
yard,  where  the  drums  of  the  marine  infantry  were 
rolling,  and  the  bugles  sang  a  joyous  chorus. 

"  Thiers'  army  is  outside !  Here  come  the  ma 
rines  ! "  cried  the  frantic  prisoners. 

"  Here  they  come!  "  shouted  their  Colonel,  Bias, 
bounding  up  the  stairs,  "  and  the  mob  are  falling 
like  leaves  in  Pere  Lachaise !  " 


464  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


A  tall,  young  artillery  captain  who  stood  beside 
him  turned  and  looked  straight  at  Landes. 

"  Alain  !  "  stammered  Philip  ;  "  Jeanne,  the  army 
is  here — do  you  understand,  my  darling?  " 

"Yes,"  sighed  Jeanne,  and  fainted  away  in  his 
arms. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  RETURN  OF   THE  BLACKBIRD. 

ONE  sunny  afternoon  in  September,  Jack  Ellice 
sat  on  the  edge  of  the  stone  fountain  in  the 
studio  garden  and  watched  the  two  goldfish 
aimlessly  drifting  among  the  water  weeds.  Insects  had 
been  plenty  that  summer,  and  when  Ellice  thought 
fully  captured  a  giddy  gnat  and  dropped  it  on  the 
water,  the  goldfish  merely  stared  at  him,  and  sank 
to  the  bottom  in  the  insulting  way  they  had. 

Toodles,  now  grown  into  a  beautiful  silky  setter, 
watched  the  proceeding  with  all  the  interest  of  his 
puppy  days. 

"  Cynical,  are  n't  they,  Toodles,"  said  Ellice,  as 
the  two  fish  turned  their  backs  and  coldly  waved 
their  tails. 

Toodles  cocked  his  ears  and  looked  at  Ellice. 

"  Not  like  you,"  said  Jack,  giving  the  dog  a  hug; 
"  do  you  want  to  go  in  and  swim  ?  " 

Philip  had  forbidden  Toodles  the  use  of  the 
fountain  for  bathing  purposes,  fearing  it  might  in 
jure  the  goldfish.  Ellice  knew  this,  and  Toodles 
knew  it  also.  They  looked  at  each  other  with  per 
fect  intelligence. 

"Shall  I  go?"  was  the  expression  in  Toodles' 
eyes. 

"  Go,"  nodded  Ellice. 

465 


466  THE  RED   REPUBLIC. 


There  was  a  flash,  a  splash,  and  Philip,  looking  up 
from  the  chess-table  under  the  almond  trees,  cried : 
"  Toodles  !  come  out  of  that  this  minute  !  "  Toodles 
emerged,  dripping  and  cheerful. 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  put  him  up  to  it,"  said  Philip, 
glancing  across  at  Ellice  ;  then  turning  to  Alain  de 
Carette,  "Alain,  it 's  your  move,  you  know." 

"  I  know,"  replied  Alain,  smiling  at  Ellice.  Then 
he  turned  to  the  chess-board,  saying :  "  I  wonder, 
Philip,  why  you  don't  push  Jack  in  when  he  does 
that." 

"  I  will  if  he  does  it  again, — here !  get  out,  Too 
dles  ! — don't  shake  yourself  over  me  !  Really,  Jack, 
you  ought  to  find  some  other  amusement  for  your 
declining  years." 

"  You  may  play  with  my  sword,"  suggested  Alain, 
moving  his  King  behind  a  white  Bishop  to  avoid  de 
struction  ;  "  it  's  bright  and  shiny,  and  rattles  too." 

"  Just  because  you  wear  a  braided  dolman  and 
red  stripes  on  your  legs —  "  began  Ellice,  when  he 
was  interrupted  by  a  squall  from  Tcherka,  who  had 
marched  up  behind  him,  and  now  sat  staring  at  him 
with  enormous  emerald  eyes. 

"  She  wants  her  milk,"  observed  Philip,  "  for  Heav 
en's  sake  get  it,  Jack,  or  she  '11  raise  the  roof, — hold 
up  a  second,  Alain,  did  you  mean  that  last  move  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Alain,  calmly. 

"  Then  it  's  check — and  mate  in  two  moves." 

"How?" 

"  Why,  here, — check  to  your  King, — that  forces 
you  to  interpose.  Now  I  double  my  Castles, — so, 
and  you  're  mated  in  the  next  whatever  you  do." 


THE  RETURN   OF  THE  BLACKBIRD.  467 


41  But  I  move  my  Pawn  into  your  King  row " 

"  All  right,  mate  !  " 

"  But  you  can't,  for  my  new  Queen  holds  your 
King  in  check  !  " 

"  Heavens  !  How  could  I  have  overlooked  that !  " 
mused  Philip  ;  "  it  's  the  racket  that  Toodles  and 
Jack  make, — I  can't  think!  Just  listen  to  that  cat! 
Stop  teasing  her,  Jack,  and  give  her  the  milk,  or  I  '11 
duck  you  !  " 

"  Let  's  wait  until  Monsieur  Ellice  and  his  circus 
have  finished  the  matinee,"  suggested  Alain,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair  and  lighting  a  cigar. 

"  All  right,"  said  Ellice,  cheerfully,  "  here  comes 
the  clown  now." 

Jacques  Jean  Marie  Louis  Joseph  Bottier,  uncon 
scious  of  this  announcement,  entered  the  garden 
with  a  tray  on  which  were  balanced  three  slender 
glasses. 

"  Bet  he  breaks  one !  "  said  Ellice  in  English. 

"  Take  you,"  replied  Alain,  in  the  same  language 
— "  steady  there,  mon  enfant,  steady — oh,  the  devil !  " 
as  a  glass  fell  on  the  gravel  and  shivered  to  splinters. 

"  Get  a  dust-pan  and  a  broom,"  said  Philip,  with 
out  any  annoyance,  "  and  if  I  have  another  whole 
glass  in  the  house,  bring  it  in  a  basket." 

Jacques  Jean  Marie  Louis  Joseph  Bottier  grinned. 
He  was  used  to  this  duty,  and  considered  the  whole 
performance  an  exquisite  piece  of  pleasantry. 

"  Bien,  Monsieur  Landes,"  he  said,  and  retired  to 
be  withered  by  Joseph's  sarcasm. 

"  Imbecile  !  "  snorted  Joseph,  "  go  and  get  that 
dust-pan  !  Do  you  think  Monsieur  Landes  owns  a 


468  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


glass  factory  ?  Give  me  the  glass  and  the  bitters  and 
the  coquetelle, — et  puis  file  !  espece  de  cornichon  !  " 
Thus  did  Joseph  exercise  sovereignty  over  Bottier, 
and  Bottier  respected  and  feared  him. 

When  the  cocktails  were  brought,  and  a  silver 
pitcher  of  mint  juleps  added  as  reserve,  Ellice  came 
and  sat  down  to  watch  the  game  of  chess,  saying 
that  the  opera  was  over  and  he  was  ready  to  watch 
the  circus.  Alain  clicked  his  spurred  heels  together 
and  stared  at  the  chess-board.  Philip  lighted  a 
cigarette. 

"  How  long  is  Alain's  leave  ?  "  asked  Ellice. 

"  Thirty  days  with  privilege  of — here  !  don't  jog 
gle  the  table,  Jack !  " 

"  I  'm  not.  How  the  deuce  did  the  General  give 
him  thirty  days  ?  He  has  n't  done  anything." 

"  No,  nothing — except  to  get  the  Legion  of 
Honor." 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Alain  ;  "  you  fellows  deserve  it 
more  than  I  do " 

"  /  .do,"  said  Ellice,  amiably  ;  "  by  the  way,  is  it 
true  that  Rigault  is  dead  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course.  Alain  saw  them  finishing  him, 
did  n't  you,  Alain?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  saw  it,"  said  Alain,  pushing  his  white 
Bishop  forward  two  squares. 

"  Was  he  shot  ?  " 

Alain  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  struck  a  match 
to  relight  his  cigar. 

"  Yes.  I  was  coming  along  by  the  Luxembourg, 
just  opposite  the  rue  Gay  Lussac.  A  man  was  run 
ning  with  a  mob  in  full  chase,  and  I  pitied  the  fellow 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  BLACKBIRD.  469 


and — er — kept  them  off  until  they  told  me  who  he 
was." 

"And  after?" 

"  Oh,  I  tried  to  persuade  them  to  let  the  court- 
martial  do  the  rest — but  you  know  what  a  mob  is  ! 
They  tore  him  to  bits  and  then  shot  what  was  left." 

"  Did — did  he  die  game  ?  "  enquired  Cilice. 

"  Probably  not,"  said  Philip,  picking  up  his  black 
Knight. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  Alain,  "  he  died  like  a 
mad  wolf,  foaming  and  snapping  and — ugh  !  I  can 
hear  his  yell  even  yet !  " 

"  What  did  he  yell  ?  "  persisted  Ellice,  devoured 
by  curiosity. 

"  Vive  la  Commune  !  You  Ve  heard  it  before,  I 
imagine,"  said  Alain,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  Give  me 
that  pitcher  of  juleps,  if  you  please,  my  son." 

"  Here  you  are.  Is  it  true  that  Weser  escaped 
after  all  ?  " 

"  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  of  it,"  interposed 
Philip.  "  He  has  been  located  in  Hester  Street, 
New  York.  They  can't  extradite  him  either.  Alain, 
I  don't  see  how  I  'm  going  to  get  out  of  this  hole 
here.  I  stand  to  lose  either  my  Knight  or  those 
two  Pawns." 

"  So  it  appears,"  smiled  Alain,  quaffing  his  julep 
and  looking  at  the  board  through  the  glass.  "  What 
time  is  it,  Jack?  " 

Ellice  opened  his  watch.  "  By  Jove,  it  's  nearly 
three  o'clock !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  'm  going  into  the 
studio  to  see  if  things  are  in  order." 

"  My  wife  may  be  late,"  said  Alain,  with  a  scarcely 


470  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


perceptible  smile,  "  she  is  going  to  call  first  on 
some  friends  of  ours  who  have  just  arrived  from 
Chartres." 

"  Chartres  ?  "  asked  Philip,  looking  up  from  the 
board. 

"  Yes.  By  the  way,  how  long  since  you  heard 
from  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  ?  " 

"A  month." 

"  Then  you  have  not  heard  since  she  left  for 
Switzerland  ?  " 

"  No — yes,  indirectly  from  her  guardian " 

"  My  cousin,  de  St.  Gildas?  " 

"  Yes.  He  has  not  permitted  her  to  write.  He 
has  his  reasons,  they  're  good  too.  I  suppose  he 
will  never  approve  of  me." 

"How  do  you  know?"  asked  Alain. 

"  Oh,  the  whole  affair  has  taken  a  turn  for  the 
worse.  Now  that  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  has  re 
covered  from  the  shock  of — of  those  days  and  has 
been  for  months  among  her  own  people,  she  will 
begin  to  look  at  things  in  a  proper  light.  I  suppose 
also  she  will  try  to  forget." 

"Forget  what?" 

Philip  ostentatiously  moved  an  important  Pawn 
and  looked  at  Alain. 

"  Forget  what  ?  "  repeated  de  Carette. 

"  Oh,  everything — all  the  horrors  that  she — and  I 
went  through." 

Alain  advanced  his  white  Knight  and  captured  the 
unfortunate  Pawn.  "You  're  playing  carelessly, 
Philip.  Why  should  she  wish  to  forget — you  ?  " 

Philip  stared  at  the  board. 


THE   RETURN  OF  THE   BLACKBIRD.  471 


"  By  the  way,"  continued  Alain,  "  I  suppose  that 
the  Abbe  Lagarde  has  deposited  the  de  Brassac  dia 
monds  in  the  Bank  of  France." 

"Yes,  the  Abbe  wrote  me.  How  fortunate  that 
the  poor  Archbishop  should  have  sent  him  on  that 
mission  to  Versailles-!  They  are  criticising  him  now 
for  not  returning,  and  the  Communistic  journals 
charged  him  with  breaking  his  parole,  but  the  Arch 
bishop  wished  him  to  remain  and  plead  with  Thiers 
and  he  was  quite  right  to  stay.  Don't  you  think 
so  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  He  could  do  more  good  there  than 
if  he  had  returned  to  Mazas  before  his  mission  was 
ended.  I  am  glad  he  thought  to  sew  the  diamonds 
into  his  soutane.  Mademoiselle  de  Brassac  is  an 
heiress  now." 

"  Yes,"  said  Philip,  trying  to  smile. 

"  And  it  's  your  move,"  began  Alain,  when  a  ring 
at  the  lodge  gate  interrupted  him.  He  rose  quietly 
and  smiled  at  Philip. 

"It  's  your  move,"  he  repeated — "on  this  game 
before  us  and  in  the  game  of  life.  Move  boldly  and 
fear  nothing,  mon  ami,  Philip.  I  think  that  is  my 
wife, — here  she  is  now." 

Philip  hastened  down  the  path  and  bent  low  over 
the  slender  gloved  hand  which  Marguerite,  Countess 
de  Carette,  graciously  extended. 

"  Alain,"  she  said,  laughing,  "  is  n't  it  delightful, 
this  studio  garden?  Did  I  not  tell  you?  Thank 
you,  I  prefer  to  sit  on  this  dear  little  fountain, — 
where,  Monsieur  de  Carette,  I  have  often  sat  be 
fore " 


472  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  With  Jack  Ellice,"  said  Alain  ;  "  I  am  very  jeal 
ous  and — hello  !  where  has  Philip  gone?" 

"  You  goose  !  "  whispered  Marguerite,  "  why 
don't  you  let  them  alone  ?  Turn  your  back,  as 
I  do." 

Jeanne  de  Brassac  stood  under  the  almond  trees 
that  she  knew  so  well,  and  now  Philip  was  beside 
her  and  was  bending  over  her. 

"  I  did  not  know,"  he  stammered  ;  "  Madame  de 
Carette  did  not  tell  me.  I  thought  you  were  in 
Zurich " 

"  How  should  you  know  ? "  she  said,  with  a 
happy  light  in  her  eyes ;  "  I  did  not  know  it  myself 
until  Madame  de  St.  Gildas  told  me  that  we  were 
going  to  Paris."  Then  looking  around  :  "  Oh,  the 
dear  old  garden  ! — and  the  fountain  and  the  almond 
trees !  I  met  Joseph  in  the  court  and  I  shook  both 
his  hands  very  hard,  and  I  also  smiled  at  Jacques 
Jean  Marie  Louis  Joseph  Bottler, — and  I  wish  to 
hug  Tcherka  and  Toodles  at  once." 

She  walked  swiftly  over  to  the  chess-table  and  sat 
down  under  the  almond  trees. 

"  Sit  there,  opposite,"  she  said, — "  and  tell  me 
everything.  Oh,  Monsieur  Ellice!  " 

Jack  came  up  radiant,  and  seemed  disposed  to 
stay,  but  Marguerite  got  him  away,  and  between  her 
and  Alain  he  found  no  time  to  intrude  on  Philip  and 
Jeanne. 

"  Alain  has  seen  the  studio  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a 
charming  smile. 

"  Oh,  he  's  seen  it,"  said  Ellice,  but  Alain  took 
his  cue,  and  insisted  on  seeing  it  again. 


THE  RETURN  OF   THE  BLACKBIRD.  4/3 


"  We  are  going  to  drink  a  cup  of  tea  in  the  studio," 
said  Marguerite  to  Jeanne. 

The  sunlight  fell  across  the  gravel,  gilding  the 
pebbles  and  searching  the  depths  of  the  brown  water 
in  the  fountain.  Tcherka  was  polishing  her  claws 
on  the  lilac  trees,  and  Toodles,  who  had  unearthed 
an  ancient  bone,  dry  and  toothless  as  an  Egyptian 
mummy,  sprawled  at  full  length  on  the  gravel,  gnaw 
ing  and  cracking  it  as  if  he  were  dying  of  starva 
tion. 

"  Make  him  stop,  Philip,"  said  Jeanne,  uncon^ 
sciously  falling  into  the  familiar  tone  of  the  past. 

"Toodles  !  "  cried  Philip. 

The  dog  thumped  his  silky  tail  on  the  gravel. 

"  He  won't — oh,  let  him  have  his  bone,"  laughed 
Jeanne,  capriciously.  "  Is  the  blackbird  here  yet, 
Philip  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  's  out  in  the  Luxembourg  Gardens  a 
good  deal,  but  he  always  comes  back.  There  is 
Monsieur  Prudhomme  too." 

"  That  toad  !  But — I  am  even  glad  to  see  him." 
Monsieur  Prudhomme  hopped  stolidly  into  the  hole 
under  the  wall,  and  Toodles  raced  after  him, — too 
late. 

"  He  's  gone,  Toodles,"  said  Philip,  kicking  the 
bone  into  a  clump  of  grass.  Then  he  went  back  to 
Jeanne.  "  I  have  not  even  asked  you  how  you  are," 
he  said,  with  a  little  return  of  his  constraint. 

"Why,  I  am  well,  of  course.  And  you,  Philip? 
Are  you  happy  ?  " 

"  Well,  thank  you, — and  happy."  She  noticed 
the  stiffness  of  his  manner. 


474  THE  RED  REPUBLIC. 


"  Here  is  a  chess-board,"  she  said,  "  I  did  not  know 
you  played." 

"  I  was  playing  with  Captain  de  Carette,"  he  said, 
looking  vacantly  at  the  pieces. 

"  But  which  were  yours  ?  Come,  I  will  finish  the 
game  with  you  if  you  wish.  Do  you  care  to  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  smiled,  "these  are  mine,  the  black.  It 
is  your  move." 

"  Very  well,  check  !  to  you,  Monsieur." 

"  You  play  too  rapidly ;  check !  in  turn  to  you, 
Mademoiselle!  " 

Jeanne  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  examining  the 
board  with  grave  attention.  Once  she  bent  to  pick 
up  a  piece  which  had  rolled  to  the  edge  of  the  board, 
and  her  white  hand,  resting  so  easily  on  the  arm  of 
the  chair,  brought  back  to  Philip  the  picture  of  the 
past, — that  Christmas,  Victor,  the  blue-eyed  child, 
standing  so  quietly  in  the  firelight,  her  slender  hand 
on  her  mother's  arm. 

"Check!  to  your  Queen,  Philip,"  said  Jeanne. 
Then  raising  her  eyes :  "  Why  do  you  look  at  me  so 
strangely  ?" 

"  Checkmate !  Jeanne." 

"  Mated  already  !     Oh,  Philip  !  " 

"  Mated,"  he  repeated.  "  Listen,  Jeanne,  I  had  no 
mercy." 

She  raised  her  eyes  again,  and  looked  at  him  long 
and  silently. 

"  What  does  Monsieur  de  St.  Gildas  say  ?  "  asked 
Philip,  meeting  her  gaze  steadily. 

She  did  not  pretend  to  misunderstand  him.  "  He 
says  what  I  say,"  she  replied.  Then  the  soft  color 


THE   RETURN  OF    THE  BLACKBIRD.  475 


spread  over  her  neck  and  temple.     Her  lips  trembled 

imperceptibly. 

"  And  what  do  you  say,  Jeanne  ?  " 

She  held  both  her  arms  out  toward  him. 

"  Philip,  can  you  ask?  " 

****** 

There  was  a  flash  of  wings  in  the  branches  of  the 
almond  tree,  a  flutter  and  rustle  among  the  leaves, 
then  the  blackbird  uttered  a  low,  sweet  note. 

THE    END. 


A     000  806  472     7 


